Blood of the Father
by Tiger Lily Roar
Summary: (AU) Things at the Department of Mysteries go far worse than Harry ever expected. A revelation from an unexpected source leads Harry away from the Wizarding World and to the one place he has always wished and prayed for: Home. (Rated for Language)
1. Korekté A (The Spell)

**Author's Note: **New Story! I'm hoping this one doesn't take me as long as my other Chapter stories. I've got it planned out and have written the first three chapters. I'm going to try updating on a schedule and hopefully that will help me keep writing. If possible, I'd like to have finished writing it before November as I'm working on my original stuff for NanoWrimo this year. Anyway, On with the story!

This story has not been read by a beta, and if anyone wants the position feel free to PM me. I find I write better when I have someone checking my spelling, grammar, and general suckiness.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, Supernatural and their respective characters are not mine in any way, shape, or form. And god, how I wish at Dean Winchester was mine! Whoa Mama that man is fine!

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Chapter One: Korekté A (The Spell)

_Hogwarts, Scotland_

_June 18, 1996_

The Gargoyle statue ground into place behind him and, numb as he was, Harry was unaware of the stone eyes watching him as he walked away from the Headmaster's office. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around everything Dumbledore had told him. From hearing that blasted prophesy, and acknowledging his part in Sirius' death, Harry was finding it difficult to focus. Although, consistently in his thoughts was the fact that not only had Dumbledore knew about his treatment at the hands of the Dursley's, Dumbledore had expected it.

To Harry, that was unforgivable.

Blood protections or not, they were not worth what he had been made to suffer. He may have been safe from unscrupulous wizards but he was, most definitely, not safe from the Dursley's. The beatings, the starvation, the isolation, there had been times last summer that Harry was tempted to turn himself over to Voldemort just so that he'd be killed quickly. This year, he was not looking forward to what his family had in store for him when he got back to Privet Drive.

His wandering brought him to the top of the Astronomy tower, the pink hue on the horizon heralding the approaching dawn. He felt his heart ache, realizing that less than twelve hours ago Sirius was still alive and safe inside Grimmauld Place. Tearing his eyes from the rising sun he looked down at the ground far below. He stepped up to the crenellated parapet. It would be so easy to step up onto the crenel between the merlons; so easy to step into the air and let gravity take him away from everything. But he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; he was no coward.

That didn't mean he wasn't above thinking about it.

He was lost in thought when a shadow of black suddenly swooped into his line of sight, startling the boy into jumping back. A sharp 'caw' drew his attention to the large raven sitting atop the stone archway above the door to the tower. Its deep black eyes bore into him and when it shifted from its perch and toward him again he saw the scroll in its claws.

"Is that for me?" He held out his arm, fisting his hand when the carrion bird made to land on the limb. As soon as the scroll was removed from the bird's leg he had anticipated it flying away. He was not prepared for the sharp beak that snapped at his hand when he reached for the parchment and drew several drops of blood from the nipped finger.

"Bloody hell," hissed Harry as he tried to dislodge the raven from his arm. The claws dug in to his flesh and halted Harry's protests with an indignant caw. "Ruddy bird," he muttered as he carefully reached with bloody fingers for the scroll again.

Harry took the roll of parchment in hand and, with one last ear splitting screech, the Raven lifted into the air and flew toward the Forbidden Forest. Harry watched it for a moment before turning his attention to what he held. He turned the roll slowly, inspecting the thick parchment with a curious eye. He was turning it to look at the seal when his fingers brushed against the hard wax. There was a spark of magic and he felt the pull on his core and he realized it had been charmed so none but he could open it. Or, at the least, his blood was needed to open it.

He turned the scroll and the bottom dropped out of his stomach as he recognized the seal for the Ancient and Nobel house of Black. Still, Harry slid his fingers beneath the wax seal and broke it before rolling the parchment out as he slumped to the floor with his back against the parapet.

_My Dear Harry,_

_I can only imagine what has happened that has brought this letter to you. Regardless of the circumstances, I can only say how truly sorry I am to have left you and to beg your forgiveness. Not for dying, but for what I am about to tell you._

_Harry, I have kept a secret from you since the day you were born. This secret, while not mine to tell, was entrusted to me by James and Lily before you were born. I had sworn to take it to my grave and, while I may have been a fugitive and unable to care for you as I would have wanted, I fully intended to keep that vow. Recently, however, things have been brought to light that have made me question several things I had once thought truth. _

_First, and foremost, Dumbledore is not to be trusted. I began to realize this when I overheard him adding 'protective wards' to my family home. The spells he imposed on Grimmauld's ward stone were not designed to keep intruders out, but to keep someone inside – specifically to imprison me inside my own home. I was too late to stop him, and when I confronted him about them he only told me it was for my own good. In the heat of the argument things were said on both parts and he made it clear that, in regards to you, my influence was no longer relevant or welcomed. He assured me that I would not be seeing you over the summer and he would make sure that all communications between us stopped. He even went as far as trying to obliviate me, but being the Head of House and in the Black home I was protected. He left, believing his spell worked._

_It took me weeks to undo his spell-work without alerting him to it, and in those days I spent much time looking through my memories and beginning to question more and more about the Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore. Now, make no mistake Harry, Dumbledore is a good man. He is strong in his defence of the Light and there is no question in my mind that he is firm against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. However, he is not above sacrificing the one to save the many. So long as he is not the one. _

_When I gained my freedom, I paid a visit to the Goblins of Gringots who were more than willing to help me in my investigation. We have learned that he was responsible for sealing the Last Will and Testaments of James and Lily. He was a signatory as Witness and knew that I was not the secret keeper. He allowed me to be imprisoned in Azkaban so I could not claim guardianship over you and, in sealing the documents, he ignored the fact that the Noble House of Longbottom was designated as caregivers in the event I was unable to take guardianship. Frank and Alice were aware of this fact, as Alice was another Witness named on the Wills, and it makes me question exactly what Dumbledore may have allowed happened to them if he was willing to leave an innocent man to the Dementors. _

_The goblins have discovered that Dumbledore appointed himself your magical guardian. He used this position to gain illegal access to your family vaults and I am heartbroken to hear that he removed several valuable family heirlooms from them. I don't know what he's done with them, but the Goblins have promised they will continue the investigation until the items have been recovered or due recourse has been taken. There had also been nearly a quarter million galleons taken from the family vault over the years leading up to your enrolment in Hogwarts. Some of this money was given to the Dursley's, though it is unclear if this was meant to have been used for your care or if Dumbledore was paying them to keep you under heel. I loathe admitting it, but after learning of your life there, before and during your time at Hogwarts, I am convinced it is the latter. As despicable as they are, I cannot fathom Petunia allowing her sister's child – or any child for that matter – to be treated as you have been. _

_I had intended to meet you at Kings Cross and take you away this summer before Dumbledore could see you back at the Dursley's. Before I came back for the Tri-Wizard Tournament I was well hidden, even from Dumbledore. I could have kept you away from him and told you everything that I have learned. However, the Goblins made me realize that should anything happen to me between now and then this truth would have died with me and you would never have known the lengths to which Albus Dumbledore has gone, and will go, to keep you under his control. This is why I have written this letter and it has been spelled to be delivered to you in the event of my death should it occur before I meet you at Kings Cross. You needed to know what has been done to your life. _

_Unfortunately, legally there is nothing to be done. You are and will continue to be under Dumbledore's guardianship until you come of age at seventeen. I don't know why he has taken such an obsession with your life, Harry, but with Arthur Weasley's near fatal attack in the Department of Mysteries I am beginning to suspect. If it's true, you must get away from Dumbledore and England._

_This brings me to the secret I mentioned. This is something that has only been known to three people in this world: James, Lily and myself. It is a way for you to get out, and I pray that you take it._

_Seventeen years ago, shortly after your parents were married, there was an attack. James and I were a part of it as members of the Order of the Phoenix. James was badly wounded and nearly died. Lily was serving as the Order's healer at the time and was the one to treat James. Once he was healed, she discovered that he would no longer be able to father a child. Lily didn't care, grateful that James had lived, but James saw it as an end to his House. True, they could adopt but the child would not have been a true heir and the bloodline would end with James. Inconsolable, he intended to scour the family genealogy to find someone acceptable and who could continue the family line. He didn't have to look far. _

_He learned, and the Goblin's confirmed it, that he had an older brother. After decades of trying to conceive, Charlus and Dorea Potter gave birth to a son. Complications during the pregnancy saw Dorea developing a rare prenatal condition that fed off the baby's magic and her own. Mediwizards were able to stabilize her, but when the baby was born he was without a magical core. Even a squib possesses a core, though the magic within is negligible. Charlus and Dorea felt it cruel to keep a Muggle – for that was what he was – in the magical world. They gave the boy up for adoption. James was born exactly two years later. _

_It took time, but they found him in America where he and his new family had moved shortly after the adoption. James and Lily, under the guise of the Honeymoon they never took, departed and went searching for him. Muggle blood tests proved to him that he and James were related, and they told him everything; of magic, of the war, of James' injury and the reason for their search for him. They asked him to father Lily's child; an heir who would be, by blood, a Potter. He agreed to be obliviated afterward, to protect both him and them._

_Through a Muggle medical process, when Lily returned to England she was pregnant._

_With you, Harry._

_While James may not have been your true father, he loved you in every sense of the word, never doubt that he saw you as his own. However, he and Lily were pragmatic if nothing else and they knew the times they lived in were precarious. When Dumbledore came to them and convinced them to go in to hiding, they confided in me the truth of your parentage. They also told me that, should the need ever arise, there was a way to return your true father's memories to him. _

_Lily, wonderful and terrifyingly brilliant, developed the curse she and James used to seal away the memories of them from your biological father's mind. She also designed the counter-curse to remove the barrier, allowing him to recall not only them but you as well. Lily had linked the counter-curse to your blood and magic. Only you would be capable of performing the spell. She and James always planned to tell you the truth of your conception when you came of age and give you the choice of knowing your true father in your own way. _

_Allow three drops of blood to fall onto the tip of your wand. With each drop speak a stanza of the counter-curse. The barriers will collapse in his mind and he will remember them, you, and the promise he made to them as family. He is your way out, Harry. Out of the Dursley's', out from under Dumbledore's thumb, and out of England. If you chose not to do the counter-curse, do not go back to the Dursley's. If you do, I have no doubt that you will be imprisoned there as much as I was in Grimmauld Place. Get to the goblins. They have been given instructions on what to do to get you out of England and to hide you away from Dumbledore, the Ministry, and Voldemort. Trust them to keep you safe since I no longer can._

_I love you, Harry, more than you will ever know. I am so very sorry to have told you all of this in such a manner but, since you are reading this, I cannot protect you from Dumbledore and his machinations. I don't know his endgame, but I want more for you than a life as a pawn to that man. Get out, please. One way or another, I beg you to get out. _

_All my love in this life and the next,_

_Sirius_

Breathing hard with the rush of emotions, Harry read the letter again to prove to himself that it wasn't some sick joke. He wished to any god listening that it had been, but after reading it a third time he was realizing it wasn't changing or going away. He wanted to disbelieve it, but he knew the magic of the Black Family Seal wouldn't allow any falsehood to be documented within it.

His hand fisted around the parchment, crushing it in his palm. This was really real. He had a father. Someone who had allowed himself to have his memories removed and knew nothing about the son he had fathered. Although, to be fair to the unknown man, he couldn't have possibly known what Harry's life would have become.

Relaxing his fist, he gazed at the letter and the words written out beneath Sirius' name. It wasn't Latin, he didn't recognize the language at all, but he knew what it was: the counter curse to release his biological father's memories.

He could do it. He could cast the spell and the man would remember he had a child. Except, would his father want him? Would he want a child who was a part of a world that he could never be? Would he want the responsibility of a teenager who had the habit of getting people around him hurt or killed?

Soft footsteps on the tower stairs alerted him to someone's approach. Harry climbed to his feet, folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his back pocket next to his wand. It was hidden away a moment before Professor McGonagall stepped out into the early morning air.

"I have been looking for you, Mr. Potter," she spoke quietly as she neared. "I expected you in the infirmary with your friends."

"How are they?" he asked guiltily, the feeling worsening when his professor hesitated before speaking.

"Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley were both easily treated and will be fine. Mr. Longbottom has been healed as well but will require a longer stay with Madame Pomfrey. His grandmother has just arrived and is sitting with him."

"And Ron and Hermione?" he prompted when she faltered, a cold dread clenching at his heart.

"Mr. Weasley has been transferred to St. Mungo's." McGonagall stated plainly, though her expression was grieved. "Madame Pomfrey is not equipped to deal with the type of injuries Mr. Weasley sustained from the Elder Brains - the necromantic remains of the now extinct Illithid, or Mind Flayer, race."

"Is that what they were," he muttered. "But Ron will be all right, won't he?"

McGonagall sighed wearily. "Ronald, I'm afraid, is in for an extended stay at St. Mungo's. The damage to his brain was quite extensive."

"His brain?" Harry gaped.

"Yes. Elder Brains secrete a toxin through their victim's skin that travels the nervous system. When it reaches the brain it attacks the person's higher brain functions. Without treatment, the individual will remain in a vegetative state. It is doubtful that, even if Mr. Weasley recovers enough to be released from the long term care ward, he will ever surpass the mentality of a child."

"Oh god..." The bile burned at the back of his throat and he reached out for the stone parapet to steady himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and hesitantly asked. "Hermione?"

When there was no answer, he opened his eyes and froze at the tears cascading down his professor's face.

"No," he moaned, his legs giving out beneath him.

McGonagall was beside him in an instant, her arms wrapping around him as the last of his control crumbled. "It was an insidious curse," she whispered through her own tears. "There was no outward injury and Pomfrey's initial scan showed Hermione was in no immediate danger. But it was a two stage curse. The medical scan activated the secondary curse which caused her to bleed internally. She bled out faster than Madame Pomfrey could heal the ruptures. Hermione never woke, Harry; she never felt a thing."

Harry sobbed against his head of house's shoulder and, with her words, the guilt overwhelmed him. With a violent shove, he pushed McGonagall away and bolted to his feet. He blindly ran down the stairs, ignoring the cries of his teacher. He ran through the halls, his feet desperately taking him down to the entrance and out the main doors.

He had killed them.

Sirius, Hermione - he may as well include Ron because his best friend would never be the same.

How could he ever face the Weasley's again? The Grangers? Or any of his friends' families? He did this...

He ran.

When his legs finally gave out on him, he was within the Forbidden Forrest. So deep that the rising sun was unable to penetrate the canopy of leaves overhead. He dug his hands into the dirt, his sobs stealing the last of his resolve.

Harry screamed.

The mournful wail tore through the dawn and his magic reacted to his grief and guilt. The magical winds whipped around him, tearing at the leaves and plants, uprooting several of the smaller trees surrounding him. The surge of wild magic swept through the forest, stunning many of the animals, chasing the Acromatulas back into their webs, riling up the Centaurs into a frenzy. It crested over the castle, the walls shaking and waking the inhabitants.

Unaware of all that, Harry reached behind him and pulled his wand from his back pocket. The piece of parchment, hidden beside it, fell out and onto the ground, obscured by the dirt and dust churned up by the cascades of magic. Eyes clenched shut against the world, Harry jabbed the tip of his wand into the centre of his palm. Without true conscious through, he turned his palm so the blood pooling at the injury began to flow from his hand. Before the first drop slid off his skin, he position his wand.

When the blood drop landed on the tip, it sparked.

_"San nan manman m', reveye kè a."__1_

A near deafening crack of thunder rent the air around him and the second drop fell to the wand with a brighter burst of sparks.

_"San fanmi papa m', lage tèt ou la."__2_

The gusts of magical wind snapped nearly a dozen thick, aged trees in half in a circle around the unaware youth. The third drop of blood fell.

_"San nan pwòp mwen, mwen rele ou isit la."__3_

Harry's magic pulsed to the beat of his heart, the wave of power near visible to any that may have seen it. But there was no one else here, and a moment later there was a blinding flash of blue light that lit up the forest and surrounding area. The light burned bright for several seconds before it drew back and pulled the wild magic back into Harry's body like a vacuum. On the ground beside him, the fading blue light burned the parchment to ash, forever erasing the spell from existence.

Harry collapsed unconscious onto the forest floor where no animal, predator or prey, dared approach. He was found several hours later by a search party of frantic teachers.

Harry would not wake for seven days.

(oo)(oo)(oo)(oo)(oo)

**Hogwarts' Express**

**June 26, 1996**

The compartment was, by far, the emptiest on the train. Only he and Luna occupied it and conversation between the two had been nonexistent. Neville and Ginny had been removed by their families from the school the day following their sojourn into London. Only he and Luna remained and the rest of the students had given them a wide berth the last days of term.

Harry couldn't blame them. After all, it's not every day that your classmates are responsible for the death and institutionalization of their best friends.

It had been a week since that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic, since Voldemort had tricked Harry with a false vision and he had given chase with his closest friends following his lead. One week after they had seen battle that left Ron committed for the rest of his days to the Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo's. One week since Sirius had fallen through the veil and Hermione had been killed by a dark curse.

One week since he had cast his mother's counter-curse and nothing had happened other than Harry sleeping off the magical exhaustion in the infirmary.

Luna shifted from where she lay sleeping on the seat across from him. Her injuries had been healed by Madam Pomfrey easily enough, but the stigma of being at the Ministry of Magic that night had ostracized her more than her unusual demeanor ever had. He felt bad about that, but when they had left that night there was no way he could have predicted what was to have followed.

With a sigh, he turned to look out the window at the passing scenery as they drew closer to London.

Harry didn't know what he was going to do now. Voldemort was still out there but, according to Sirius' letter, Dumbledore would see Harry essentially imprisoned at Privet Drive. Given that he had gotten two people killed with his stupidity, maybe he should be. But Sirius had been adamant about getting away from Dumbledore as much as Voldemort, and getting away from England. The spell Harry had cast in his grief had done nothing, at least not that he could tell.

Or maybe his father didn't want him...

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw several fourth year students pause outside their compartment and point while holding a whispered conversation. Seeing Harry glance at them, the hurried along.

According the Luna, the gossip and whispers around Hogwarts was at an all time high, with him factoring in as the insane want-to-be hero that got people killed with his delusions of grandeur. Despite being vindicated in the press for telling the truth about Voldemort, Fudge and Rita had taken great joy from announcing how Harry had gotten his friends killed and maimed. Mrs. Longbottom's quote in the Daily Prophet, calling him a stupid careless child, had been gleefully repeated his last days at Hogwarts.

The split from the Weasleys was complete and public when Molly's howler had screamed at him in the Great Hall only that morning for getting Hermione killed, putting Ron in the permanent ward of St. Mungo's, and letting Ginny be hurt. His only hope of a reprieve from the Dursley's had been if the Weasleys forgave him for the danger he put their youngest children in and allowed him to visit at some point.

For some reason, he doubted it.

Dumbledore had questioned him about what went on in the forest after Harry regained consciousness only the day before. But Harry had yet to say a single word to anyone about anything since waking. And it seemed that crippling grief and guilt were the perfect Occlumency as neither the Headmaster nor his pet Death Eater ventured far into Harry's mind.

Luna had been the only constant and for that Harry would be eternally grateful. She shared in his grief and held him when he would cry, content to leave him to his silence and refusing to pressure him like so many others.

His melancholy was interrupted by the slowing of the train as it pulled into Kings Cross station. He leaned over the space and gently shook Luna's shoulder to wake her. The girl blinked owlishly before sitting up. With a final hug to the petite blonde, they gathered up their things and left the train.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the silence that descended over Platform 9&¾ as he disembarked and carried his things toward the barrier. Hundreds of eyes followed him, but he was too numb to notice.

Vernon was waiting for him on the other side and scowling when he saw the expression on the boy's face. "No one to say goodbye to then, Boy?" the large man jeered with a happy sneer.

"No, Uncle Vernon," he muttered, and kept his head low and thus missing the vicious gleam in Vernon's eyes.

Vernon snorted and started his way out of the station. Harry hefted Hedwig's cage and pulled his trunk along behind the man, not paying attention to anything. He didn't notice while Vernon led them into the lowest level of the parkade until this year's new company vehicle beeped once when Vernon unlocked it. Harry's confusion at their location was evident as the boot opened with a touch of a button but said nothing as he set the empty cage on the cement floor.

He was adjusting his grip on his trunk to lift it into the compartment when Vernon's big, meaty hand gripped the back collar of Harry's shirt and jerked him toward the car. The trunk fell to the ground with an echoing "thud" and he was flung forward, his knees striking the bumper painfully. Before he could react, Vernon had him spun around and bent backward awkwardly with his shoulders and upper body inside the boot. His eyes were wide with shock and fear as Vernon leaned over him, his bulk pinning Harry's legs, and his uncle's massive hands wrapped around his throat!

"We've had enough, boy," the man snarled and began to squeeze.

Harry's fingers flew up to grab at the hands choking him and tried to pry them away. His fingernails scratched futilely into the backs of Vernon's hands and wrists. Blood pounded in Harry's ears as he fought for breath.

"Your freakishness will no longer be tolerated in our home," Vernon grunted with exertion, spittle flying from his lips and onto the strangling boy's face. "You got your freak friends murdered, boy! You'll not do the same to my family!"

The incensed man's words dimmed as the black of approaching death crept into Harry's vision. Vernon's face blurred and Harry could feel his will to fight fleeing. After everything he'd done, everyone he'd hurt and killed...

He deserved this.

His struggles stilled and his hands fell to the side. He was welcoming death when the hands were suddenly wrenched from his throat and a deep voice roared:

**"Get the fuck away from my son!"**

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(Haitian Creole)

_1 - "San nan manman m', reveye kè a."_ (Blood of my mother, awaken the heart.)

_2 - "San nan manman m', reveye kè a."_ (Blood of my father, release the mind.)

_3 - "San nan pwòp mwen, mwen rele ou isit la." _(Blood of my own, I call you here.)


	2. Papa A (The Father)

**Author's Note:** I am flattered by the responses I've gotten so far about this story. I know the "Harry's Real Dad" plot has been used ad nauseam but I've had this niggling at my Muse for long while now. I've had the plotline penned out for almost a year but never sat to write it. I'll admit, I don't know much of the later seasons of Supernatural but as I will only be dealing with Season One I don't need to.

As I said in the first chapter, updates will be scheduled for every Saturday afternoon, MST. Since I'm getting together with some friends tomorrow afternoon I thought I'd update tonight instead of waiting until Sunday.

Thank you so very much to everyone who has left me reviews and for adding Blood of the Father to your alerts and/or favourites. I hope the rest of the story meets your expectations.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Supernatural are not mine. But Dean is. Really. He's all mine, you're not allowed to touch! HANDS OFF! *clears throat* Please don't sue me.

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**CHAPTER TWO: Papa A (The Father)**

**London, England**

**June 26, 1996 (7:30pm)**

The room wasn't anything special. The typical two double beds, a long dresser that served as a stand for the TV, a small round table with two chairs over by the window; still, compared to the room Harry had been expecting at Privet Drive it was practically palatial. He stepped inside and, aware of the man following right behind him, moved quickly to the table where he set Hedwig's empty cage.

"You can have the bed closest to the window," the man said as he set Harry's trunk on the luggage rack in the closet. "Our flight leaves in about nine hours, so we have time for a rest and some food but we shouldn't stay here too long."

Harry remained silent and stared at the man.

The resemblance was definitely there. The same aristocratic facial features, the same almond shaped hazel eyes, black hair that was cropped closely to the man's scalp. In the pictures that Harry had seen, James Potter has been of average height and slim, almost wiry. This man, however, was nearing two meters tall and close to fifteen stones, all of which had to be muscles, and had the archetypical look of an American soldier.

And not at all what he had been expecting.

All the while Harry had been examining him, the man had been staring right back. By the grim expression on his face and the clenching of his jaw, he didn't like what he was seeing. He closed the distance between them, hesitating when Harry involuntarily flinched back from the approach.

"I need to take a look at those bruises," he spoke evenly, motioning to Harry's neck.

"They're fine," the teen rasped with a voice barely above a whisper.

"Right." the man gestured to the bed. "Sit."

Not really in the mood to argue, Harry took the few steps to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. The stranger crouched in front of him, his fingers gently prodding at Harry's throat. "Who are you?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Caleb. Caleb Reaves*." Light brown eyes glanced up at his face before focussing again on the bruises. "I'm your father, Harry."

With a huff, Harry pushed the man's hands from his throat and looked at him with a frown. "I get that; you look too much like James not to be related. But _who are you_?"

"You shouldn't talk so much." In a gesture that Harry himself did time and again, the man grumbled and ran a hand over what little hair he had. He frowned, stood, and took a few steps back. "I don't think there's any more damage to your throat than some bruising and swelling, but you should keep the speaking to a minimum. I think I'll grab you some ice before we get into things."

Recognizing the delaying tactic for what it was, Harry just crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his 'father' with an annoyed stare.

The chuckled was unexpected, but then again almost everything about the man was unexpected. "You look so much like Lily right now. I promise, Harry, I will tell you everything you want to know. But your throat and neck... those bruises really need tending before they get any worse." Without another word, the American turned and grabbed the ice bucket from inside the small bathroom and exited the room.

Harry sighed and flopped back on the surprisingly comfortable bed. He closed his eyes and draped one arm across them to shade them further. What was he doing? He didn't know this man, not in the least, but there was something about him that Harry wanted to trust. The counter-curse, most likely; the spell he had cast was undoubtedly drawing them together. But it seemed like there was more to it that just magic. The man - his father - was obviously a long way from home, gauging by the accent, and had shown up like some terrifying guardian angel just at the moment when Harry had been certain his Uncle was finally going to kill him.

There were so many questions that would need to be addressed. The man - Caleb - had said 'our flight' so he must intend to take Harry with him wherever he was going. The teen just didn't know if he would be going; at least not yet.

He was coming down from the adrenaline of his Uncle's assault and he felt his body relaxing into the mattress. He inhaled deeply, cringing at the pain in his throat when he swallowed, then exhaled slowly while his mind ran through the questions he would definitely be asking if Caleb actually came back.

The lock clicked and it opened a second later. Harry tilted his head to the side and forced himself to sit up again when he saw the man enter with a now full ice bucket. He gave the wary teen a grin as he closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything before stepping into the bathroom. Harry heard the water run for a moment before Caleb came back out with a couple of towels and a glass of water. The man approached the bed and grabbed a chair from the table. Setting it before Harry, Caleb sat and put the bucket and towels on the floor beside him.

The glass was offered to the youth and Harry accepted it gratefully before taking a few tentative sips. He opened his mouth to begin the interrogation but Caleb shook his head.

"Don't talk," the older man instructed as he wrapped a handful of ice in a cool, damp towel and carefully pressed it against Harry's bruising throat. "Let me tell you everything and then, if you still have questions, you can ask them."

The tepid water felt good as harry took another sip, the ice easing the ache of his throat, and he nodded in agreement. There was a minute of silence, but Harry let the man gather his thoughts.

"I've always known I was adopted," He started, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "My parents were older, already in their fifties, when they took me in. My father was an Ambassador with the Canadian Embassy until 1963. I was five when we moved back to Quebec. A couple years later, my father retired and we relocated to Florida for my mother's health. She died when I was thirteen."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered sincerely when the man paused, all too familiar with the sense of loss that was evident in Caleb's eyes.

Pale brown eyes smiled at him. "It was the summer of 1979, I was twenty-one, and honourably discharged from the Army after being wounded in a training exercise. I was in a VA hospital when I was visited by Lily and James Potter. I had no idea who they were, and when they told me that James was my younger brother I didn't believe them. Not at first, anyway. We had the hospital run a blood test and it confirmed that we were indeed siblings. After losing my father the previous year, it was nice to have family again.

"Then they told me about the magic. I have to admit, that surprised me even more than having a long lost brother. But after a couple of demonstrations it was easy to accept and I learned the reason they searched me out. I thought they were nuts, to tell the truth. Neither of them was twenty and still they wanted a child. I tried to play devil's advocate, get them to change their minds, until they told me more about the War they were fighting. James knew, given his family, that he would be a main target for the other side. He wanted his family's legacy to go to his son or daughter in the event something happened to him. Being a soldier, I could understand that but the idea of bringing a child into such a dangerous and unstable world didn't sit right with me.

"It was Lily who finally convinced me. She was desperate for a child and promised that every possible protection would be made to protect the baby - to protect you, Harry. I don't know much about the world of Magic, even after spending several weeks with them, but even in the regular world there's no denying woman's intuition. She told me she did not believe James would survive the war, something she never told her husband. Given his family's wealth, he hadn't bothered following a career after school and dedicated his life as a soldier in a guerrilla style war against a madman. Lily just knew that James wouldn't live beyond the fight.

"Obviously I wasn't about to sleep with my brother's wife, no matter how stunningly beautiful she was. Once I was released from the Hospital we approached a doctor in Australia who was testing a new technology to assist parents who had trouble conceiving. It was uncertain how long it would take but Lily was able to be impregnated a month later.

"It was decided between the three of us that it would be best if there was no further contact between James and I until the end of the war. I am not part of that world and I would be a valuable tool against your father for either side. We also intended on keeping the truth of your parentage secret and the best way to do that was for me to not remember. So, Lily used a spell that she had created specifically for that. It would lock away the five months that we spent together locked away.

"However, there were four ways to break the memory block. The first was if Lily lifted the enchantment herself. This they planned to do when the war was over. I was always meant to be a part of your life, Harry, and theirs; at least, after the war. The second was that the spell would begin to fade on your seventeenth birthday. This was an unavoidable contingency of the spell that Lily did not have the time to work around. It would have then been up to me if I wanted to seek you out and tell you the truth.

"The third was if you were brought to me before your seventeenth birthday. Lily and James knew the world they lived in and new the players in the war. If they were both killed they wanted you to have to means to find me if you ever needed a way out. We agreed that your Godfather would be told the truth when you were born and he would have the instructions to get you out of the UK and to me if both your parents died but he didn't think it was safe for you to be with him.

"The last you know. The spell you cast was for you after you began your magical education. It was a worst case scenario failsafe. Fuelled by your blood and magic, it would not just remove the magical barriers on my memories but it would show me your life from the moment of your birth until the casting of the spell."

Harry swallowed and paled. "So you-"

"I know everything, Harry," Caleb said with a soft frown. "I know about the Dursleys and their abuse; I know about the hell you've undergone every year at that sorry excuse for a school; and I know about your Godfather and your friends."

With his eyes clenched shut, Harry couldn't see the man's expression. All he knew was that all his secrets, everything he had hidden from everyone, had been exposed to a complete stranger. He was shaking now, his breathing coming in sharp ragged gasps. He was not expecting the bed to shift beside him or the strong arms to wrap around him.

The feeling was like nothing he'd ever felt. He'd been hugged before, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had been forever glomping on to him, but this was different in every way. Caleb was solid and strong and didn't try to crush him. The arms holding him felt safe and sure, a promise that he would never be hurt again.

And Harry believed him.

Whether it was the spell or just his desperate need for comfort and kindness, Harry turned in the man's embrace and returned it whole heartedly. His arms were trembling around the man as he pressed his face into to man's chest, burying himself in the smell of his father as he sobbed out his grief and fear and pain and hope. Hope that, just maybe, this man could be his home.

He wasn't certain how long he cried, but Caleb didn't seem in any hurry to separate them. The hold the man had on him remained unwavering until Harry's sobs quieted and his tears began to dry. Only when Harry pulled away himself did Caleb shift his arms to allow the youth the movement he needed.

"I'm sorry," Harry began in a hoarse whisper.

His father just shook his head and wiped at the tears still moist on Harry's cheeks. "Don't ever be sorry, Harry, not for something like this. If you're hurt or scared or whatever reason, I will always be a shoulder for you to cry own. My parents were that for me."

With a nod, the young wizard extracted himself from strong arms and shifted on the bed so they were facing each other. "You really are my father, aren't you?"

Caleb smiled. "Yeah, Kid, I am; if you want me to be that is."

Harry looked into the man's eyes and saw the desire that Caleb tried to hide. Harry returned the small smile. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good, I would have hated to waste these." Caleb got up from the bed and to his things that were sitting on the other bed. He reached into his small travel bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He held them out for Harry to look at. As he did, Caleb explained what they were. "When I landed this afternoon I went straight to Privet Drive. Petunia is the one with custody of you and it is her signature that was required. The first documents allow me permission to travel with you, a minor, out of the country without your legal guardian. The next is her relinquishing her rights as your legal guardian to that of your biological father. They will be filed once we get Stateside and have a DNA test done to confirm that you are my son. Once that's done, there's nothing anyone can do to take you away from me."

"In the real world," Harry conceded, "but no one in the Wizarding world will ever abide by muggle documents. If you've seen my life you know about the prophecy. It's either Voldemort or me and once they realize I'm gone they will be coming after me. Both of them! Voldemort will want me dead and Dumbledore will want me as his weapon. As it is, I'd say we've got about another hour, maybe two, before they realize I'm not at the Dursleys and start looking."

Caleb's frown was severe and he started pacing. After a minute he stopped. "I may have seen your life, but I don't have your insight on them or that world. You need to tell me what options we have, Harry."

Harry nodded, chewing on his bottom lip as his mind raced. "Sirius' letter; he said he'd made arrangements with the Goblins to get me out of the country if I didn't use the spell to find you. If we can get to Gringotts in Diagon Alley we can have them hide us until the flight you have booked. I'd suggest staying away from Magical means of travel, even if the Goblins helped us. All muggle ways will be overlooked because of their inherent belief that muggles are inferior to them."

"Okay then," Caleb accepted easily, immediately starting to gather up his thing. "We leave. We don't check out of the room, we just go and not come back. Do you have a small bag? We need to travel light and fast and lugging around your trunk and that cage is going to be problematic. What about your owl?"

Harry was already up and opening his trunk. "I have my school bag that I can stuff clothes and a few things in. Hedwig will find me wherever I go so we can leave the cage. The only thing that might be a problem is my broom - it was a gift from Sirius - and I would hate to leave it behind. But if I take it to Gringotts I can have them put it in my Vault until I can come back for it."

Fifteen minutes later, wearing one of Caleb's hoodies to hide the impressively purple bruises on his throat and his broom wrapped up in a torn up robe, Harry and his new found father were stepping out into the London night air.

-0-0-0-0-0-

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

**June 26, 1996 (10:15pm)**

In all his years as an educator, including the years during Voldemort's first rise in power, Dumbledore couldn't remember a year where he was actually glad to see the students leave. The last week of the term had been, with no other way to describe it, horrific.

It all went wrong so quickly that even now, eight days later, the Headmaster was still reeling. If people just trusted Albus to know what was right for them, if Harry would have just listen and done what he was suppose to, things wouldn't have been so disastrous.

Losing Sirius was no big loss. If anything his death suited Albus and his plans so much better than locking the man in his family home he had been. Sirius' ideas regarding Harry were just too dangerous. The death of the Granger girl, or the crippling of the youngest Weasley son, was not something Dumbledore had planned. The repercussions were yet to be felt but he knew it would not bode well for the Potter Heir. If he had just listened to Albus...

The headmaster looked around his office and at the dozens of missing trinkets and monitors. Harry's tantrum had done more damage than he had originally anticipated. Gone now was the monitor he'd had on Tom Riddle, the one he had created when the daring young wizard had dared come for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. He had always known where the man had been and, after his supposed defeat fifteen years ago, where his wraith had been.

The second great loss was the monitors and trackers he had on Harry Potter. Those he could replace in the coming fall when the boy would return to the school after months suffering under the yolk of his whale of an uncle. Each year Dumbledore's compulsions on the family ensure that Harry came to him grateful and malleable. Every year Dumbledore's rescue of the boy ensured that Harry trusted him and relied on him. This year, however, Harry needed to relearn his place. His Uncle would teach him the cost of wilful independence. He wouldn't kill the boy, that task would be left for Voldemort, but Dursley would ensure that Harry was desperate for escape and the sanctuary that Dumbledore offered him.

Really, it was all for the best. The Wizarding World needed a martyr and, with nothing left to lose, Harry Potter would willingly become just that.

The unlit hearth in his office flared to life just then and a worried face of Remus Lupin appeared in the flames. "Professor, are you in?"

Rising from his chair, Dumbledore approached the fire. "Good evening, Remus. I was not expecting to hear from any of the Order tonight. Is there a problem at Headquarters?"

Remus blanched. "You could say that. May I come through, Professor? I'm using the floo at the Leaky Cauldron and this conversation would be best had in private."

"Of course." Albus frowned when the flame head disappeared. He was just retaking his seat when Remus stepped through the fire and the green flames dimmed. The man was not looking well, which was no surprise with the first night of the full moon only four nights away. But it was the grim expression on his face that had the professor uneasy. "What seems to be the problem, Remus?"

"Have you changes the wards to Headquarters since Sirius died?" The werewolf asked bluntly.

The frown quickly turned in to a scowl. "No. While I may be able to add my own security measures to the Black Family Home, only the Head of the Family can change them. Why? What has happened?"

"Moody, Tonks and I missed Harry at the station. By the time we got through the crowds Harry had already left with his Uncle." Remus sighed and rubbed wearily at his stubble covered face. "I still don't understand why he had to go back there, not now with Sirius and Hermione-"

"He needs time to grieve, Remus." Dumbledore fought to stop his eyes from rolling. He'd had this very conversation several times while Harry had been unconscious. He'd thought he'd dealt with it, but perhaps it was time to send Remus on a mission for the Order; one that would see him out of England for the next few weeks at least. "He cannot do that while our world is vilifying him in the papers again."

"I know you're right, I'm just upset that we couldn't talk to Dursley about what goes on in that house." Remus sighed again and shook his head. "But that's not why I'm here. After missing him at the station we went to Privet Drive. I know-" He hastily explained seeing the angry look on the bearded man's face. "-we weren't suppose to be seen there, but we needed to really talk to Dursley. Except Vernon wasn't there and Petunia told us that Harry would not be coming home. She made a point of telling us that now that Harry had other blood family he was no longer welcome there."

Albus cringed. The specific wording would have seen the wards begin to fail. His monitors would have alerted him of that fact, had they not been broken. Unless he could get Harry back to Privet Drive in the next forty-eight hours he would lose the blood wards all together. "I take it you have not found him?"

Remus shook his head. "There's no other blood relation that I know of on either side of Harry's family, so I thought maybe it was something he made up to tell his Aunt. I thought, perhaps, he may have gone to Headquarters instead but... well, I couldn't find the place to check. I thought I knew where it was but I can't even think its name."

A cold chill ran through Dumbledore at the implications of the other man's words. He knew where Headquarters was. It was... The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was located at...

Dumbledore's mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish and his eyes went wide. He had cast the existing Fidelius Charm with himself as secret keeper, and yet he couldn't remember where it was located. The only thing that could affect the Fidelius was if the Black Family Wards reasserted themselves; and that would only have happened if the Black Heir reset them. But Sirius had been the Black Heir and... Oh sweet Merlin!

"Remus, do you know if Sirius had updated his will since escaping Azkaban?"

The werewolf shook his head. "I know he wanted to but he would have to have gone in person to the Goblins. That first year and bit he was on the run and then he stayed in Headquarters when you asked him to. He knew it wasn't safe."

He knew he was trapped, Dumbledore thought bitterly. But at least Sirius hadn't been able to make Harry his Heir. As the Head of the Black Family the boy would have been untouchable. The Black Family was infamous for the protections of its Head and Heir. Disguising his efforts to keep Sirius in the Manor as a means of protecting him had been the only thing that had saved Albus from any unpleasant repercussions. If Harry had been made Heir, and with Sirius' death the Family Head... It was a terrifying thought but a moot one. Sirius hadn't been able to change his will, if the man had even had one prior to his imprisonment. That left the Headship to the next eldest male of the Black line.

"I fear," Dumbledore began morosely, "that Headquarters has been lost to us. Without an Heir designated by the last Family Head, the title would go to the next male in line. Regulus has been long dead and Sirius' cousins are all women. Andromeda Tonks' daughter, Nymphadora, is ineligible as the Black have always been a Patriarchal line, which leaves Narcissa Malfoy's son, Draco, as the next Lord Black. Narcissa would have been notified of Sirius' passing as Draco is not yet of age."

"And she would have instructed him on resetting the wards." Remus groaned and leaned back in his chair. They two men were silent for a moment before Remus looked at the Headmaster and asked, "What about Harry?"

"We must find him, Remus." Albus stressed. It was an honest expression of his current thoughts. He had to find Harry, and fast, or else all his plans would be for naught. "He is only safe from Voldemort and his followers behind the wards of Privet Drive. And I'm afraid that with the Black Family Library at his disposal, Voldemort will use the dark magics within to go after young Mr. Potter."

Remus nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll start making the rounds. Moody and Tonks are already in Diagon and London looking, but I'll get as many of the Order members as I can to help search."

Dumbledore stood as well, fingering his wand while his thoughts were racing through means of locating the boy. "Soon, Remus; we have to find him soon or I fear our world may be lost!"

-0-0-0-0-0-

**Blue Earth, Minnesota**

**June 28, 1996 (4:30am)**

The grey haired priest was sitting on his porch, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book nestled in the other. The sky was just beginning to pinken with the first rays of morning and so it was he saw the headlights of the vehicle before the dark blue Dodge Ram truck turned onto his block. He was setting the book on a bistro table next when the truck pulled into his driveway. Walking down the short flight of stairs he was there to greet the driver as the man climbed out of the cab.

Jim Murphy held his hand out to his friend in greeting. "Caleb, how was the flight?"

"Long," the man answered, accepting the hand graciously. "But we were able to get out of the country without any problems."

"And where is your young man?" Jim glanced through the cab of the truck to the passenger seat where the dark haired youth was sleeping with his head nested on a bunched up hoodie against the window. The sight was endearing and the pastor smiled warmly before turning back to Caleb.

The new father was smiling softly. "He fell asleep just outside of Davenport when we stopped for gas. Kid hasn't slept much lately, I think. I know he didn't sleep at all on the plane over or most of the drive out."

"And what about you? Did you sleep any?"

"I rested on the plane but otherwise felt we needed to put as much distance between us and them as quickly as possible." He sighed wearily. "So, not much but I had more than him."

Jim leaned against the side of truck. "So, there were no complications with immigration?"

Caleb reached into the back of the truck and picked up the two small duffle bags, shaking his head in answer. "We got some help from some people on this side of the pond. There's so much I have to tell you about him, Jim, and not just the magic stuff. He's a Lord, if you can believe it, or at least will be once he comes of age. He's loaded, like insanely so; old family money that generations of Potters have added to more than they've taken. He and his grandchildren's grandchildren could never work a day in their live and still have money to burn. But all of his ancestors insisted on working and I see him doing the same when he's grown."

Jim was laughing lightly. "It's your heritage too, Caleb. By acknowledging him as your son, your blood, you too can claim being a Potter."

"I like being a Reaves," Caleb let the bags settle onto the cement drive next to him. "What's more: His Godfather, the one who died just last week, left him everything as well. Another Lordship, properties, and more money that the Queen! It's obscene how much money that kid's going to have to manage. But the worst of it though, Jim, is that he's a celebrity in his society. His account manager - a goblin of all things! - talked to his counterparts in New York and they were more than willing to help hide him once they heard what the poor kid had gone through. Especially if it meant his money was coming across the pond with him. They had a representative waiting for us when we landed and have given him a talisman that will help keep him hidden."

"It's good to know you have some allies in protecting him. It sounds like you'll need it." Jim picked up both duffels and motioned to the still sleeping Harry with a jerk of his head. "He's exhausted, Caleb. Grab him and bring him inside. I've got the spare bedroom set up for him."

"I appreciate this, Jim." Caleb closed the driver's side door quietly and moved to the other side of the cab. "I wasn't exactly ready to be raising a kid let alone a nearly sixteen year old."

"And yet you dropped everything and jetted across the world to find him and bring him home. There's proof enough that you're not only able but willing to be that young man's father." Jim shouldered the bags and watched as Caleb easily lifted the lithe boy into a cradle hold to carry him inside. Harry shifted in his arms but did not wake.

"What kind of life can I offer him, Jim," Caleb whispered over his sleeping son's head as he followed the priest back to the house. "I hunt for a living, never staying in one place long, cheap motel to cheap motel, greasy takeout food every night unless I'm mooching off you. It's not the life a teenager should be living."

"Maybe," Jim agreed as he opened the front door and let the other man enter first with his son, "but maybe it's the life that this teenager needs. From what you told me before you left young Harry sounds like he is desperate need of someone solely in his corner with no hidden agenda."

Caleb considered the older man's words while he carried his son into the small room at the end of the hall. The comforter on the twin bed was already drawn back and Caleb lay teen on the mattress. He removed the boy's shoes and socks, easily shifting the boy's body to relieve him of the poorly fitting jeans and leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt.

"Caleb?" Harry groaned in his sleep, eyes flicking open briefly.

"Go back to sleep, Harry." He pulled the blankets over the still mostly asleep boy, unable to resist petting his hand over the dark unruly hair. Harry all but purred at the contact and leaned in to the touch. "We're at Jims; I told you we'd be staying with him for a little while."

"M'kay." Emerald eyes drifted closed again and Caleb smiled, caressing his son's hair and face once more before leaving the room. He left the door open, not wanting the teen to wake up closed in in a strange environment.

Jim was waiting for him in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee brewing on the machine. He slumped into a chair at the table, watching as the pastor buttered some toast. "We won't be able to stay for long." Caleb said after a moment.

"I figured." The man finished his preparations and set the small plate of warmed bread in front of the weary father. "Even with whatever aid you were given when you arrived, you will leave a trail. Those people looking for him will eventually find their way to America. You shouldn't stay in one place for too long."

Caleb sighed and picked up a slice of toast, tearing a little piece off and chewing on it absently. "He already knows about the Supernatural; hell, he's a part of it for God's sake! I'm going to have to keep that secret from our own people or he's going to having Hunter's on his ass as well as Wizards!"

"There are some of us already in the know of his world," Jim reminded him. "Myself, Bill and Ellen, Bobby, Rufus; I've already spoken to them and they've agreed to be there for you both if and when you need them."

"But to bring a magic user, even a natural born one, into the Hunters' World?" Caleb shook his head and took a large bite of the toast. "God help me, I've got to be insane."

Jim laughed and picked up his own slice, spreading a raspberry jelly over it. "No more than the rest of us, Caleb."

* * *

_* No relation to Caleb Reaves of the Brotherhood SN Stories, just an homage to the character created by Ridley C. James, Tidia & Williamson M. Scott. I love their Caleb and while he doesn't fit this story I wanted to use the name._


	3. Fanmi A (The Family)

**Author's Note:** I've aged Jo Harvelle a couple years and let Bill Harvelle live a little while longer than what was in cannon. I'm trying not to tweak too much, but I wanted them to fit a little better with the story.

I didn't want to wait until tomorrow so here's this week's update! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and Supernatural are not mine. Also, apparently Dean Winchester does, in fact, belong to the CW and I'm not allowed to keep him locked up in my basement. It is with a heavy heart that I inform the CW that they can go to hell and I'm keeping Dean with me! *insert evil maniacal laugh here*

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: Fanmi A (The Family)**

The next seven weeks were, without a doubt, the best Harry had ever experienced.

The day after they arrived in the US, Pastor Jim - as he insisted on Harry calling him - introduced the teen to a doctor friend of his. He was given his first complete physical ever and, despite the uncomfortable nature of parts of the exam, he was relieved to find that other than a little malnourishment he was in good health. The physician was confident Harry's growth and weight issues could easily be dealt with if he followed a strict diet and vitamin program for the next twelve months. He may never be as tall as his father, who stood a generous six feet one inch, but he would gain an average height for his age. Harry was happy with that.

His poor sight, Harry learned, had been exasperated by his years of inadequate nutrients growing up. A visit to the local Optometrist to discuss their options - glasses were an unnecessary inconvenience and hazard for the life they would be living - and while younger than they typically liked, Harry would be eligible for corrective laser surgery after his sixteenth birthday. They agreed that would be the route to go since they might not always be able to refill a prescription for contact lenses.

The obvious signs of abuse, current and older, were a cause of concern for everyone all around, but the Doctor was satisfied that Harry had been taken out of the environment and wasn't going back. He commended Caleb on doing what was necessary to protect his son. Especially considering that son was unknown to him until only a couple weeks prior.

The DNA test that was arranged took five weeks to come back to them and, once it was scientifically and undeniably confirmed, the guardianship papers were submitted through a Judge that was part of Pastor Jim's congregation. There was no way anyone could take Harry from his father now; at least not legally.

Caleb and Jim spent a great deal of time bringing his education back to what it should be. Maths and Sciences were especially lacking but without the pressure of Hogwarts, or life with the Dursleys, Harry was flourishing. He was no genius, and never would be, but he was smart and when he applied himself he was brilliant.

Working with a teacher at the local high school, they were able to accommodate Harry's educational needs and the fact that he would be travelling throughout the year with his father. Working through the summer months and at his own pace, everyone was convinced that Harry could graduate on time if not early.

Education was not the only thing they addressed during that time. For those seven weeks, every precaution was being taken as far as Harry's safety was concerned.

Jim and Caleb taught him what they did, hunting the evils of Supernatural America, and began his training in the weapons and tools they used. Harry was a fast study of Latin, already having a basis of the dead language from the spells he had learned in school. A lot of the lore he already knew and was able to advance rather quickly to the more obscure creatures.

He was introduce to Bill and Ellen Harvelle, as well as their daughter, Jo, who was only a few weeks younger than him, when the family had come to visit Jim two weeks after Harry and Caleb had arrived. They stayed for a week, Jo and Harry hitting it off to the amusement of their parents. Harry's second kiss - as well as his third and fourth - was enjoyed on a warm afternoon when the two teens had been lounging next to the small creek that ran behind the neighborhood. Harry had to admit, they were so much better than the very awkward, and very wet, first one he had shared with Cho Chang. Nothing serious every developed between him and Jo and, when the Harvelles left, they parted as good friends and nothing more.

Meeting Bobby Singer had been an experience. The gruff man had showed up without notice and took one look at Harry before determining that no one else was skilled enough to teach him about Demons. Harry found the colourful insults the grizzly man came up with, as he lamented the loss of a book after another hunter and the man's sons had tapped Bobby for information, amusing. He then went off on a tangent about how sticky fingered Hunters were the bane of his existence. Harry won the bet between him and Caleb over the number of times Bobby called Winchester an 'Idjit'; it had been seventeen times.

The three days the man had said he would stay went by quickly and extended into another six when he discovered Harry's culinary skills. Only when Harry placed a bill next to Bobby's breakfast plate one morning did Bobby deem it time to leave.

After paying his tab, of course.

Jim quickly became a Grandfather-like presence in Harry's life. Unlike the persona Dumbledore had cultivated, Jim truly seemed to care about everyone that visited his home. The Pastor would make sure to set time from his day aside, even if it was only a few minutes, to seek Harry out. He would ask him about his day, how he was adjusting to his new situation, and genuinely wanted to hear the answers. Some conversations carried long into the night and Jim brought a comfort to his life that Harry had never had before.

But it was the relationship with Caleb that drastically changed everything.

The man was a soldier and it showed. Every morning he woke Harry and the two worked through an exercise regime that was designed to strengthen Harry without bulking him up. It was tough work, and the first few weeks were agony for the teen, but Caleb never once insulted or belittled him for his lack of physical ability. His father was encouraging, supportive, and even though he pushed him he never demanded more of Harry than what he was capable of.

The time spent together with his new Father was awkward, at first. Knowing that Caleb already knew everything that had happened in his life, Harry didn't know what they could talk about. It was Caleb who bridged that gap; talking to Harry about events in his life and how he felt and what he was thinking about at the time. It led Harry into recounting moments more about feelings and thoughts than the events themselves. Having someone listen to him, to accept what he said without comment or opinion, was not something Harry had ever had before. Caleb quickly became a support in his life that Harry had sorely missed. After nearly sixteen years, he felt he finally knew what it meant to have family.

His sixteenth birthday had also been memorable. It had started with his midnight ritual. He hadn't been expecting anything, but was pleasantly surprised to see Hedwig for the first time in weeks winging her way to Jim's back stoop. She carried a letter from Luna wishing him a Happy Birthday and explaining that Hedwig had shown up at her place the day after school let out. The owl had refused every letter not sent by Luna, and the girl had thought it best to keep contact to a minimum given the state of things back in the UK.

Harry's disappearing had not been received well by the ministry. The Prophet was reporting that his vanishing act was all but an admittance of his guilt in Hermione's death and Ron's injury. Minister Fudge was claiming that Harry was in collusion with the Mass Murderer Sirius Black (The Ministry had gone back on their statement of Voldemort's return and were now back to denying the Dark Lord had returned.) and together they had attacked the ministry. Arrest warrants had been issued for Harry Potter for the offense, for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive, as well as the assaults on several Heads of prominent Pure Blood families, and the murder of Hermione Granger.

Luna went on to tell Harry that Neville had left his grandmother's house and was now staying with the Lovegoods. Neville had been very angry with Dame Longbottom's comments in the press about the incident at the Ministry and the fact that she would not believe him when he told her he had gone of his own free will. She was pressing charges against Harry for using the Imperius Curse on her grandson. It was also looking like Molly Weasley was claiming the same for her two children and Ginny was going along with it.

Despite how much she and Neville were missing him, they both agreed that wherever Harry was it was far safer for him than anywhere in Europe. She did not want him to reply and told him to keep Hedwig with him. There had been several attempts to bespell his familiar to find and track him by Dumbledore and his people. The owl had nearly taken the Headmaster's ear off during the man's last attempt.

Harry was more than a little upset reading the letter, but in reality he wasn't that surprised. He had no plans to return at England, ever if he could help it. The Goblins of New York were working with their cousins in London to bring Harry's wealth over without alerting the British Ministry. They were confident it could be done before Halloween.

Even so, the reality of the situation was a blow to his already fragile emotional state.

Caleb had found him an hour later, his father having sensed something amiss, sitting in the middle of the backyard with Hedwig affectionately grooming through Harry's hair. The teen had been crying quietly and could only hand over the letter when asked what had been the matter. After reading it, Caleb remained next to Harry until the sun came up.

Breakfast brought a change to the mood of the day when Rufus Turner had arrived with several packages; all presents and all for Harry. Rufus had made the rounds, gathering the gifts from those who wanted to be there but couldn't be; The Harvelles, Bobby. Jo's had come with instructions not to open until he was alone. The racy, nearly nude photos of the girl and her friends in some very skimpy bikinis had left Harry wishing he had paid attention to the instructions. Jim, while disapproving, had laughed along with Caleb at the blush that colored Harry's face for the rest of the morning.

The day had only gotten better, progressing into an impromptu gathering of a few hunters who were in the area. None of them were aware of natural born magic, but all of them were very happy for Caleb to have found family. That was the day that Harry learned what had pulled his father into Hunting: the death of the man's wife and unborn child, by an angry spirit in the home they had been renting, ten years prior. Harry's heart had broken for the man, though Caleb reassured him that he had come to terms with their passing. It was nothing he had done, or could have prevented, and he had a skill set that could help stop the same fate from befalling another young family.

Daniel Elkins was probably the most memorable Hunter Harry met that day. The man was so paranoid he put Mad Eye Moody to shame. He had been the hunter who had rid Caleb's home of the angry spirit and had taken the young widower under his wing. Elkins had trained Caleb and the two had hunted for several years together until Caleb ventured out on his own. The two were good friends and Daniel had made Caleb promise to bring Harry by some time to tweak his son's training.

All things considered, it had been a good day. At the end of it, Harry had made friends as well as some interesting acquaintances.

So much happened in the little house in Blue Earth, Minnesota that it hurt to leave. When Caleb told him, a couple weeks after his birthday, that he'd heard from the Goblins in New York that some European wizards had been asking questions about him, Harry didn't want to go. He knew, however, that they'd already stayed too long.

"You have your phone," Jim assured him from inside the warm hug they shared while Caleb loaded up their things into the truck. "I am never more than a call away and I expect to hear from you every other day at least."

Harry was smiling, even as he sniffed back the tears, and held on to the older man. God, he was turning in to such a girl! But then he'd never had family like this before. His face was buried into Jim's shoulder and his voice muffled as he spoke. "You'll get sick of me after how much I call you."

"Never!" Jim laughed and gently pried the teen from his frame. "Now, you'll be back in two weeks to register for school and get the fall semester's assignments. In the meantime, you're not going far."

"First hunt," Harry said nervously. He glanced over at his father who stood waiting next to the truck, letting his son have all the time he needed for his good-byes. "I wish I could do more to help him with it."

"You found her, Harry." Jim reminded him as he steered him off the porch and toward the drive. "If you hadn't expanded on what we suspected about banshees, we never would have seen the pattern of death's in Neoga. And, now that you know they are a variation of an Angry Spirits, you and Caleb will be able to research what you need to find her and put her to rest before anyone else is hurt. When you're ready, and by that I mean when your father thinks you are ready, you'll be able to do more."

Having heard the end of the comment, Caleb laughed. "No grave desecrations until you're eighteen."

Wrinkling his nose, Harry maturely stuck his tongue out before giving Pastor Jim one last hug and racing around to the passenger side of the truck. "I'm raiding your CD stash!"

Caleb was still chuckling as he reached out and shook the old preacher's hand. "Thank for everything, Jim."

Pastor Jim gave his arm a tug and had him in a warm hug before he could object. "Call if you need anything, even if you just want to talk."

Clapping the man on the back, he just nodded and climbed into the truck beside his son. "You ready to head out?" He asked and started the engine.

Harry waved one last time to Pastor Jim and nodded enthusiastically. "You bet, Dad."

**Effingham, Illinois, USA**

**August 20, 1996**

Four days later, Harry was starting to regret leaving Jim's place.

While it was great helping his Dad research the deaths that had been occurring around Neoga, Illinois the last few decades, the reality of Hunting was not as glamorous as Bobby and Rufus had made their stories sound. There was no place to stay in Neoga - the township was barely two thousand people - and the closest motel in Effingham fifteen minutes to the south. In fact, so many buildings were vacant in Neoga that it was surprising only one of them was actually haunted.

Finding the lair of the Banshee had been easy; it was the house that everyone in town was afraid of. No one had lived in it in eighteen years but the ghost's wailing could be heard nightly. Most of the time it was a faint cry on the wind but, true to the lore, those who heard it the loudest claimed to have seen a woman with wild hair and white eyes outside their homes. She would point at them screeching and they, or someone close to them, died within days.

Finding who the Banshee was when she'd been alive had been much harder.

The house had resulted in absolutely nothing and most of the homes on the block were empty as well so there were not many people around to talk to. That left them looking in the public library but it was only a satellite branch of the larger Library in Effingham. With Caleb to take the truck up to Neoga to ask questions, posing quite legitimately as a Paranormal Investigator, Harry was left to walk over to the Library to look through back issues of the county papers. It was long and tedious and most of the time downright boring!

Still, Harry had been excited when he found the issue from 1934. A young woman had been living in the house with her husband. Despite the hardships of the Great Depression, Constance Michener had been making a name for herself as a fortune teller. People from all around Illinois would venture to her for tarot and tea readings and her predictions were always accurate. Some would find work at her advice, or love, while others were forewarned of danger or would perish as she had foretold

The article Harry had shared with his father just the previous night had gone on to say that her husband became sick and lost his job when he could no longer work. Unable to afford a doctor or medicines, Mr. Michener's condition worsened and he slipped into a coma. Constance had never left his bed side, weeping and wailing, refusing all visitors until they stopped coming. When he died, her grief consumed her and her shrieks could be heard throughout the township. The following morning, when a neighbor went to check on her, Constance was found dead beside her husband. There was no apparent cause of death and many claimed she had died of a broken heart.

It took another morning of research before Harry had been able to find where the woman was buried. So that left Harry alone, in a very boring motel room, while Caleb staked out the cemetery in Neoga until night fell and he was able to dig up Constance's remains and salt and burn them.

And god help him, Harry was so terribly bored!

Walking away from the inane sitcom that he had found on the Motel's basic cable, he grabbed a handful of change from a pile on the table, slipped his wand into his back pocket, and opened the door. He carefully stepped over the line of salt, using the toe of his boot to straighten it, and exited the room.

The motel parking lot was quiet as Harry walked down the narrow sidewalk just outside their room. The streetlamps cast their light over the handful of vehicles in the parking lot. A beat up truck parked to the side of the office, most likely belonging to the evening desk clerk, a couple of nearly rusted out pieces of junk that probably hadn't moved since 1978, and a black beauty that Harry had to pass on his way to the vending machine.

The long, sleek body was gorgeous, even to one not educated in the ways of American Made Muscle Cars. He couldn't help but stop and admire the polish of the midnight paint and the light grey tint to the side and back windows. Harry was practically drawn to it and he didn't resist, stepping a little closer. He whistled at it appreciatively and ran a hand over the hood.

"Don't touch the car."

A deep voice snapped Harry out of his trance and he yanked his hand back as if burned, glancing to the side. A tall, muscular man stood in an opened doorway with his leather jacket clad arms folded over his chest. He wore a deep shadow of stubble along his jaw line and his brown eyes were nearly black in the dark of night.

Harry grinned sheepishly and took a step back. "Sorry. I've never seen a car like her before. She's a beauty."

"Thank you." The man's expression didn't change, but there seemed to be a softening around his eyes. "I don't suppose they make them like this in Jolly Ol' England." The man said, obviously commenting on Harry's undeniable accent. He pushed off the door frame and walked past the teen to the trunk of the car.

With a snort of amusement, Harry shook his head. "No, never saw anything like her where I came from."

"Who're you talking to, Dad?" a voice from inside the opened motel room had Harry glancing back to the row of rooms and allowed a small smile at the sight of a boy stepping out into the lot. The gangly teen was nearly as tall as Harry's short stature but he couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen.

"Your brother get in the shower okay, Sammy?" the man asked as he opened the trunk and reached inside.

"Yeah," the boy replied, keeping a wary eye on Harry. "He, uh, said you can take a look when he's cleaned up."

"I'll be right there," the father lifted a duffle out of the trunk and closed it after him. "Go back inside now, Sammy."

"Sorry," Harry apologised with a small wave to the man. "I didn't mean to keep you from your kids. Have a good night."

He started to walk away, resuming his short trek to the vending machine when the man called after him. "You on your own, kid?"

Harry shook his head as he walked backwards. "No, my father's up in Neoga on business. He's supposed to be back soon."

"Good to hear," the man nodded and motioned to the door to his motel room. "You need anything before then, come find me. The name's John."

"Harry; and I appreciate that, John," Harry stopped beside the pop machine just as the cell phone in his pocket started to ring. "That's probably my dad now telling me he's on his way back."

"All right then. Bye Harry."

"Bye. And again, it's a really nice car!"

Harry was rewarded with a small smile as the man closed the door and he smiled himself as he flipped open his Motorola. "Hey, Dad."

_"Hey Harry,"_ Caleb's voice was accompanied by the sound of a shovel moving through the dirt. _"I wanted to let you know I got held up by a night time service at the graveyard."_

"Seriously?" Harry chuckled as he wedged the phone between his chin and shoulder, reaching into his pocket for the correct change. "Who has a funeral at this time of night?"

_"It was a wedding,"_ the man laughed. _"Some gothic thing - quite lovely, actually - but they only left about an hour ago so I'm just now getting to the casket."_

"Miss Michener hasn't given you any trouble, has she?" He asked into the phone cradled no his shoulder with his chin while he slipped the change into the motel parking lot vending machine.

_"Surprisingly quiet; I thought she would have kicked up a fuss when I started digging. Especially since someone else had been in her house some time this afternoon or early evening."_

Harry frowned and took hold of the phone to relieve his neck. "Any idea who it was?"

_"Other hunters, maybe, or some local kids playing around. Either way, they riled her enough to have the neighbors calling me with their concerns. When I went to check the place there was definite signs of a confrontation; something or someone went through a wall. Whoever it was probably got hurt. If I weren't taking care of her tonight I'd be worried."_

"You've salted around the grave, right?" Harry asked worriedly, looking over the choices of sodas. "If whoever they were got her agitated, I really don't like you out there on your own.

Caleb chuckled through the phone. _"Not my first Salt n' Burn, Harry."_

"I know that." Harry pressed his selection and waited as the plastic bottle dropped into the bottom of the machine. "But I've heard a few of the stories of your hunts."

_"That was one time!"_ Caleb protested. _"I forgot to ring the grave one time!"_

"And you were laid up with a broken hip for four months after that."

The man on the other end sighed. _"Yes, Harry, I've salted around the grave."_

"Thank you, I feel better now." Harry smiled to himself. "How long do you think you'll be?"

_"Not long," his father answered with a grunt of exertion. "Another half hour here at most then twenty minutes back. So an hour, give or take. Your research was spot on, Harry. Constance Michener is buried right where you said she'd be. You don't sound like you're in the room."_

"Stepped out for a drink," the reached down to retrieve his Dr. Pepper. "I'm fifteen metres from the door and there's no one else out here but me. Well, there was this one guy with a seriously sweet car, but he just told me not to touch it and went back in his room with his kids."

Caleb chuckled with amusement. "_So long as you've got that talisman the goblins gave you, and you don't muck up those salt lines._"

"In my back pocket with my wand." Harry smiled, warmth spreading through his chest at the concern the man showed him.

_"No magic, even if the thing does hide it."_

"I know Dad." He turned and started walking back. "I'm heading back to the roo-" his words caught in his throat at the flickering apparition that appeared between him and the door to his room, hovering just outside John and his kids' room. "Uh, Dad, are ghosts known to move haunting locations?"

_"Unless they've latched on to a person, typically no."_

"Good to know." The dead woman's form coalesced and she shifted, her pale white eyes locking on to him when she sensed him standing behind her. She screamed and rushed him, causing him to scramble backward. "Dad, dig faster!"

He dropped the bottle and phone when he dove out of the way when the ghost suddenly lunged at him. Harry hit the pavement hard and she shrieked at him again, the sound grating on his eardrums. He rolled to avoid another swipe of her talon-like hands, his body stopping against the tires of the black muscle car, and he grabbed his wand from its place in his pocket.

He didn't know any spell that could banish a ghost but something Jim told him had stuck with him: Magic, like prayer, was intent based. Want something badly enough and chances are you'd make it happen. And as the screaming bitch came at him again it was easy to really want her gone!

Thrusting his arm out, his wand directed at the swooping ghost, he shouted the first thing that came to mind. "_Retórque malum!"_

With a blood curdling scream the Banshee went flying back, flickered a bit, but didn't vanish. The few seconds he gained allowed Harry to scramble to his feet and away from the car. He only needed to make it to the room and he'd be safe.

He was surprised when the door the John's motel room suddenly burst open and the man stood on its threshold with a sawed-off shotgun. "Get down!"

Recognizing the command from a soldier, Harry didn't hesitate and dropped belly to the ground. With a thunderous clap of gunfire he realized just how close the Banshee had been to him again. She was right behind him when whatever the gun had been loaded with pebbled her and she vanished, her scream still ringing in the night.

"Inside, now!" John had taken a step forward, coming out onto the sidewalk to help the young man to his feet, when the entity appeared only a few feet in front of them.

Harry just reacted, pointing his wand and shouting "Protego!"

The Banshee's talon's raked across a near visible shield of magic which gave John the opportunity to pump the shotgun again and take a second shot. The apparition dispersed in a swirl off ectoplasm and John wasted no time in hurrying Harry into the motel room. A blonde teenager, maybe a year or two older than Harry, was standing just inside the room waiting to slam the door behind the pair. Sammy was kneeling on the opposite side of the door with a canister of rock salt and quickly fixing the line across the threshold.

Panting to regain his breath, Harry took a few paces further in to the room before turning to thank the man who had likely just saved his life. The words on his tongue never passed his lips as the heavy fist struck him across the side of his face.

Black exploded across his vision and he felt his body hit the ground. He didn't completely lose consciousness, but he couldn't get his limbs to respond to his commands to fight back as the wand was plucked from his hand. His ears were ringing, the black already giving way to grey, and he felt the world shift around him as he was lifted off the floor.

"Dad-?" a young but deep voice inquired but was cut off by John's curt order.

"Get some rope."

That did not bode well for the dazed boy, yet he was barely capable of a token protest when he was deposited into an uncomfortably hard chair. He shook his head to clear the fog while his arms were bulled behind his back, around the straight back of the chair, and a length of course rope was quickly wound around his wrists.

"Shit!" Harry cursed and felt the warmth of blood running from a throbbing pain at the corner of his lips. He stretched out his jaw and looked up when he heard the pump of the shotgun sound again, unsurprised to find in aimed at him. "You're a hunter."

"And you're a witch." John snarled with an unforgiving glare focused solely on the teen. "His feet too, Dean."

The ropes binding his wrists were pulled tight and Harry hissed with pain as they were knotted with absolutely no give to them. Then the tawny haired teen, Dean, knelt in front of Harry and the chair and began winding a second piece of hemp around his ankles. The guy looked decidedly uneasy, dripping wet and only in a pair of boxers, and there was something apologetic in the pale green eyes when Dean looked up at him. But Harry knew he would get no help from him or the other teen. Sammy stood beside the door, the canister of salt clasped between his hands, as he watched wide eyed as his father held the weapon on Harry.

John stepped forward and a swinging backhand turned Harry's head with a solid thwack. "You don't look at them, Witch!"

"I'm not a witch!" Harry spat, turning a glare of his own on the intimidating man. "I'm a Wizard!" A second strike across his face had Harry silently pleading for Caleb to hurry up.

"It doesn't matter what you call yourself," John reengaged the safety of the gun and set it on the table, next to where he had placed Harry's wand. "You still dealt with some evil hell-spawn. What was it called?"

And this is why Caleb and Pastor Jim warned him not to let other hunters know of his magic. "Goddamn it, there was no deal! I'm natural born!"

"No such thing." John shook his head and walked into the bathroom.

"Just like there's no such thing as ghosts?" Harry yelled back.

Sammy snorted where he stood and Harry looked at him, giving the younger boy a wry smirk. His attention was pulled to the older teen that was sliding on a pair of well-worn jeans. Dean's back was to Harry and the bound wizard could see the mass of bruises coloring the other teenager's shoulders and spine.

"You were the one who went through the wall," Harry put it together.

Dean looked over his shoulder at their captive, a grimace of pain on his face vanishing quickly in a mask of indifference. The blonde tugged a t-shirt over his head and turned to face Harry. "What do you know about it?"

Harry didn't get the chance to answer as John came back into the room. A second later Harry was snarling against the knotted hand towel the hunter had tied across his mouth to gag him. The fabric pulled against the split in his lip, but he was helpless in his restraints as he listened to the man ordering his sons.

"Sammy, get that book we snagged from Bobby's-" Harry groaned as he realized just who had him tied up. He wanted to tell them that they knew his Dad, and the others that Harry knew, but his muffled attempts were being ignored. "-and see if it says anything about Witches controlling ghosts. Dean, start checking him for the Demon's mark."

"But Dad," Sammy glanced over at Harry with a doubtful frown, "I've read-"

"Now, Sammy." There was no arguing with that tone of voice, and it was apparent the younger boy knew it. He walked over to a pile of duffle bags and started riffling through them.

Dean spared the bound teed another apologetic look before he started moving Harry's clothes around. He pushed up the legs of his jeans, pulling off his boots and socks. The sleeves of his t-shirt were slid up his arms and the limbs inspected. He grunted his discomfort at some of the ways Dean tried to contort him without untying him, and with a whispered "Sorry" Dean kept going.

"Better than that, son," John corrected from his spot next to the window. The older man was pushing the curtains aside a bit as he looked out into the parking lot. Harry didn't think he'd even turned his head to look at his oldest son's progress.

"Yes sir," Dean complied instantly. A pocket knife was retrieved from the young hunter's jeans and Harry's eyes went wide when the blade was flicked out. He jerked in his restrains, cursing all of them around the gag, but could do little more than rock the chair.

A steady hand on his knees brought the chair back to balance and Dean's eyes gleamed with sympathy despite the emotionless expression. "Hold still, I don't want to cut you accidentally."

The tip of the knife sliced into the collar of Harry's shirt and in less than a minute the fabric had been cut away from his torso. He was shivering in the ropes as Dean's hands and eyes roamed his upper body, looking for any anomalous marks or means of hiding said mark. Harry looked past the older teen crouched beside him and glared at John who was now watching the proceedings with a matching glare.

A minute later, Dean turned to look at his father. "There's nothing there, only a couple of wicked looking scars."

"The pants." The command brought the already quiet room to a complete stand still. The man's own sons were looking at John like he'd gone crazy while Harry was staring at him because he knew John was crazy!

Dean's resolve to obey seemed to waver as he stood in front of Harry, his stance protective yet uncertain. "Dad, you always told us the marks are closest to the heart; Chest, back, neck or face; sometimes on a pulse point. It's not anywhere!"

"And the pulse point on the thigh?" John's face hardened, the glare he had aimed at Harry now turned to his own son. "The pants, Dean."

"Dad, stop!" Sammy joined his older brother, a rebellious stare marring his youthful face. "Bobby has books about Natural born Witches! I've read some of them! People like that are rare, but they do happen!"

"Not everything you read is the truth, boy." John snarled in a tone reminiscent of Uncle Vernon and Harry wondered how anyone could speak to their own kid like that.

"The Banshee went after him, Dad." Dean said quietly. "You saw it and wanted to help him."

"That was before I knew he was a goddamn, demon dealing, witch!" John snapped. "You were watching; you saw him use magic trying to control it."

Harry frantically shook his head while Sammy seemed to speak for him. "No, Dad, I heard him use his magic trying to protect himself! _Retórque malum_ is Latin for 'Turn Evil'! You taught us that when you were trying to get us to memorize the different exorcism rights! And the last one, _Protego_, is pretty self explanatory, don't you think?"

John's incensed eyes bore past his sons straight to Harry's frightened face. Practically roaring he stalked toward the three boys, pushing between his children while pulling a pistol from the small of his back. The barrel pressed into Harry's forehead and it was all the helpless wizard could do not to piss himself. He couldn't stop the tears that stung his eyes, however.

"You will stop whatever you are doing to my sons or I will put a bullet through your brain to make you." John's voice was chilling and Harry believed every word.

"Dad, look at him." A hand appeared on John's unwavering arm, Dean standing right next to his father as he tried to calm the homicidal man. "He's scared shitless. If he was a Demon deal Witch he would be fighting more than he has been."

Without a word, the hunter flicked the safety off the pistol.

Harry closed his eyes, the tears escaping and trailing down his cheeks, and bit into the knot of fabric filling his mouth. He choked back the terrified sobs, praying that John would listen to his sons; praying that the insane man would listen to reason; praying that Caleb would arrive to save the day.

And for the second time in his life, his prayers were answered. With a crack that had all three Winchesters spinning around, the door to the motel room burst open.

Caleb Reaves was, generally, a pleasant man. But having heard the Banshee attacking his son over the phone had him performing the fastest salt n' burn of his life. The gunshots and shouts that echoed through the connection had confirmed for him the presence of other Hunters in the area; hunters that would not know about Harry and his natural born gift. He had left the open grave burning while he raced back to Effingham with the gas pedal flush to the floor. He had gotten back to the motel in less than ten minutes only to find his son's cell phone not far from an all too familiar black Impala.

He had found the Winchester's room easily enough and the curtains had not been closed all the way, allowing the irate father a glance into the room. The scene inside had his blood boiling and he wasted no more time. He had kicked open the door to the Winchester's room with his own weapon drawn and aimed at the man who had held the gun to his son's head.

"Caleb!" Sammy exclaimed, recognizing the newcomer.

Not moving he eyes from the threat, Caleb stared John down. "I'm only going to say this one time, Winchester. Get away from my son!"

There was surprise on all three Winchester's faces, though Sammy's held an air of excitement as well. The two teens moved aside but John remained unmoving and his gun still readied.

"Your son?" The older man snarled disbelievingly. "You don't have a son, Reaves; especially not one this old. He's put you under a spell like he did my boys!"

The pistol in John's hand turned to aim back to Harry but Caleb was trying to save his son and reacted faster. The gunshot echoed loudly in the small room and John went down to his knees with a cry of pain, his offhand clutching at his now bleeding hand that had dared hold the gun on Caleb's son.

Caleb stormed the distance between them quickly, kicking John's gun back out the door and keeping his smoking revolver aimed at the injured man. "It's only because of your own children I didn't put that bullet through your thick skull!"

Said children were now staring with a mixture of disbelief and anger at Caleb but neither moved any closer to their father. Never looking away from the glaring John Winchester, Caleb pulled a large knife from its sheath hidden beneath his pant leg with his free hand and moved beside his son. "You okay, Harry?" He asked while deftly slicing through the ropes around the young man's wrists.

Shaking the severed cords from his arms, Harry nodded as he reached behind his head to untie the gag. "Yeah," he answered breathlessly when he could speak again. He tossed the offending towel aside and hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and eyes. His father offered the knife to him and he took it, cutting the cords around his ankles before giving it back.

Silence carried through the room as Harry donned his shoes and sock again and made to stand. Caleb held on to his elbow as Harry regained his balance on shaky legs. His thumb brushed over the blood oozing from the split lip and the bruising rapidly showing up on the side of his boy's face. His light brown eyes were awash with barely constrained fury and he nudged Harry toward the door. "Grab your wand and head back to the room. Start packing our things, I'll be along in a minute."

Retrieving the phoenix and holly wand, Harry turned and pointed it the pile of fabric that had been his shirt. With a quick, almost defiant, "_Reparo_" he picked up the newly repaired shirt and slipped it over his head. He smirked at the Winchester's looks - one amazed, another uncertain, and the last downright murderous - and his father's own amused grin.

"Show off," Caleb muttered affectionately.

Once Harry had left the room, the amusement left Caleb's features and he turned a rage filled glare at the still kneeling hunter. "If you ever come near my son again I will not hesitate to put another bullet in you." When John opened his mouth to protest, Caleb halted anything he said by raising the barrel to the spot between the man's eyes.

"He's really natural born?" Sammy spoke up quickly, ignoring the glare directed his way by his father.

Caleb nodded and arched an eyebrow in challenge at the other father. "You can call and ask Pastor Jim; Harry and I just spent the last two months with him. Or Bill and Ellen. Or Rufus. Hell, even Bobby. But so help me, Johnny, if you tell anyone else about my son you will not live to regret it; children or not."

With an exhausted sigh, Caleb thumbed the safety on and lowered his gun. He looked over at the teens one last time before leaving the room and hurrying to help Harry pack up their gear. When he entered their room, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed. His head was dropped and his shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

Caleb was beside him instantly, wrapping his arms tight around his son and holding him to reassure them both that Harry was still alive. "Good god, I do not like that feeling." Caleb muttered into the boy's hair.

"Me neither." Harry's voice hitched and he tightened his own hold around his father. "You and Pastor Jim warned me about other hunters, but... He really was going to shoot me, wasn't he?"

"I know," Caleb's breath shuddered in his chest as the image of the gun to Harry's head flashed before him again. "But you don't have to worry about him, or any of the other hunters for that matter. I'm not leaving you alone again."

"Good." Harry sniffed as the terror of the evening faded in the wake of his father's embrace. His heart was calming, his tears drying, and he was feeling a hell of a lot safer.

A soft knock on the door frame alerted the pair to the fact that Caleb hadn't shut the door when he came back. Looking up they saw an embarrassed looking Sammy Winchester standing there." Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to apologize to Harry."

"You don't have to." Harry sniffed and quickly wiped away his tears. "You tried, Sammy-"

"It's Sam, actually." The gangly teen shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Sam, sorry." Harry shrugged, grateful that his Dad hadn't moved from beside him. "Anyway, you tried. You told your Dad about what you'd read and he didn't believe you. In fact you and your brother both tried to reason with your father. It's not your fault he's-"

Harry bit off the insult but Sammy - Sam - had a smirk tugging at his lips. "A stubborn bastard who wouldn't listen to God if He was screaming in his ear?"

Caleb snorted and grinned, and Harry smiled. "Just remember, you said it."

The younger boy nodded and took a step into the room, holding his hand out before him. "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester. Sorry my brother tied you up and that my Dad was going to shoot you."

Harry was still smiling and stood from the bed, taking the offered hand and the peace offering it represented. "Hi, Sam, I'm Harry Potter-Reaves. It wasn't the first time and I'm not sorry my Dad shot yours."

Sam's curiosity at that statement was plain, but he didn't press it. He just made an exaggerated wince and chuckled. "While cleaning a bullet wound sucks, I'm glad Caleb stopped him."

"Sammy!" Dean's voice carried through the parking lot and into the room.

The lightness of the moment fell away and Sam sighed. "I better get back. I told him I was coming over to snag a roll of gauze for Dad's hand." He pulled a full roll from his own pocket and smirked again. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," Caleb returned the smile, once again amazed at the gentle spirit that was the youngest Winchester.

Sam nodded and turned to leave but faltered. He looked back at Harry with a hopeful expression. "Can I call sometime? Just to talk, you know? There are not many kids around my age that I can talk to about this stuff and it'd be nice to have someone other than Dean, ya know? Also, Natural Born Witch-"

"Wizard," Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"-Wizard. I'd love to talk to you about your Magic and World."

The longing on the kid's face was damn near irresistible. Harry hesitated briefly, just until he looked to his father who nodded his approval, then walked over to the bed stand. He opened it, taking the pad of cheap paper and pen, and quickly jotted down his cell number. He held it out for Sam to take, which he did.

"SAMMY!"

The youngest Winchester rolled his eyes and shared a light laugh with Harry. "Thanks, Harry."

"Talk to you later, Sam."

The door closed with a click and Caleb stood behind his son with a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think I know anyone else who could end a night like tonight by making a new friend."

"It's a gift." Harry smirked.

"Smartass," Caleb poked him in the ribs. He cupped Harry's chin in his hand and tilted the teen's head to gain a better look at the hurt done to Harry's face. "The bruises aren't too deep, and the lips looks like it'll heal up in a couple days. If you want I can get the first aid kit from the truck-"

Harry just shook his head. "It'll be fine. Let's pack and get out of here."

"All right," Caleb nodded. "We'll head up to Chicago for a couple days, maybe catch a Cubs game or two?"

Harry started gathering their things from around the room, tossing them to Caleb who put them into the appropriate duffle bags. "That's the game that's like Cricket, right?"

"You're kidding, right?" Seeing the honest confusion on his son's face, Caleb frowned. "You're not kidding. Now that's just not right!"

As his father went off about uneducated offspring, Harry had to turn his head away to hide his smile.


	4. Dèt La (The Debt)

**Author's Note:** I am super pleased that people like my story! The first half of the story is really just a build up to the main event so I will be time jumping quite a bit. It'll also be taking place mostly in the Supernatural World so a lot of Wizarding stuff might get ignored. I may, or may not, expand it after the ten chapters I have planned out; I haven't decided yet. A few people have asked about pairings, and right now it isn't that type of story. I hadn't really considered any pairing, but you never know what happens as I'm writing it.

I know I said updates would be every Saturday, but I'm just about done writing the second last chapter and am now cleaning everything up. Updates will be a little more frequent now as I'm heading in to the home stretch. Honestly, I'm just super excited about this story and can't wait for you all to read it! I think it's the best piece I've ever done. *grin*

Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to leave a review, and to everyone else who added this story to their favorites and/or alerts!

**Disclaimer:** All right, all right... Dean Winchester is not mine. Neither is anyone or anything else from Supernatural or Harry Potter. *le sigh*

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**CHAPTER FOUR: Dèt La (The Debt)**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**July 30, 1997**

There wasn't a part of him that wasn't sore. While nothing was broken or bloody, the Sylph - an invisible air elemental - had batted Caleb around like a leaf on the wind. He really should have stayed the night at the motel, but he'd been anxious to get back to Bobby's place in time for Harry's birthday like he'd promised his son. So at quarter to eleven, when he finally pulled the truck into the salvage yard that surrounded Bobby's home, he really wasn't that surprised to see nearly all the lights burning in the house's windows. Harry wouldn't be waiting up for him, exactly, but he'd not sleep until after midnight and the calendar changed.

Bobby Singer, however, was waiting up for him and standing on the porch with his shotgun in one hand and a shot glass in the other. Caleb couldn't stop the amused smirk that played over his lips as he met the man at the top of the stairs. Without comment he took the glass and knocked back the holy water. Bobby nodded curtly and gestured to the screen door behind him.

"Get in there and do something about that boy of yours," the grizzled hunter snapped without any real bite. "He's taken over the place and I ain't getting any work done."

Caleb adjusted the strap of his duffle over and followed the older man through the screen door. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Ya'd think," Bobby grumbled, setting the loaded weapon against the wall next to the door. "Now go talk to the kid; he's been going spare ever since you left."

Now that Caleb could believe.

There were few hunts that Caleb still wasn't taking his son on and this had been one of them. It had only been the fifth time he'd had to do so in the year they had been hunting together. After what happened in Effingham, Caleb made sure never to leave Harry alone again. So when he had needed some backup, and he teamed up with Daniel, Harry was left with Bobby on research detail. The teen didn't like it, but he understood that he still wasn't ready for some hunts.

Moving through the house, he expected to find Harry inside Bobby's library but his son wasn't there. There were dozens of opened books spread throughout the room, but no sign of the almost seventeen year old.

"He's expanded." Bobby smirked and pointed to the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

Following the man's advice, Caleb pushed the door open and stopped before he even entered. There wasn't a surface in the small kitchen that wasn't covered in books and papers. The sole occupant of the room was concentrating on the series of texts that were opened in front of him as he thumbed through three of them at the same time. A fond smile crept onto his face as he watched his son for a few minutes before he realized Harry hadn't even realized someone had approached the room. .

"You're leaving yourself vulnerable, Harry." Caleb was rewarded when the boy practically leapt out of his skin, knocking over his chair as he jumped to his feet and spun around. The wand that appeared in the young Wizard's hand was a little daunting, but Caleb trusted his son's control. He remained relaxed in the doorway, smirking at his Harry's antics.

Harry lowered his wand, placing a hand on his chest as his heart was racing beneath it. "Are you trying to get hexed?"

Caleb snorted and let his duffle slide from his shoulder and onto the floor beside the door. "You wouldn't hex your old man, would you?"

"I will if you sneak up on me like that again." Harry closed the distance between them and wrapped his father in a warm hug. "You made it."

Caleb returned the embrace whole heartedly. "I promised I would."

"Yeah, you did." The soon-to-be seventeen year old held on for another moment before stepping away and turning back to his books. "How's Danny?"

Caleb gave a little laugh and followed his son into the room. "You know he hates it when you call him that."

Harry chuckled. "The old man loves it and you know it."

"True. And he's good." Caleb followed glanced at some of the texts. "He can't make it tomorrow so he wants us to swing by his place in the next couple of weeks. He's got something for you and has some more runes he wants you to take a look at. What are you working on?"

"A couple of things," Harry shrugged as he moved some of the papers and books around. "I started on a book that the Goblins found for me; the one we were looking for on the origins of Magic. According to it, Merlin was a Cambion, a half demon, and it theorizes that the first Wizards were the offspring of Adam's first wife, Lilith. It's really quite fascinating. But then Sam called me the other day wanting some information on a hunt his Dad was dragging him and his brother on."

He was surprised at that and it showed on his face. "Johnny's got you researching his hunt for him?"

Harry shook his head. "Sam, Dad, not his sociopath of a father." He turned back to the books and pushed one, along with a handful of papers, toward Caleb. "Sam said that John thought they were going after a pair of Vetala but Sam's pretty sure it's a Rugaru. Sam wanted a second pair of eyes looking at the signs and research and damn it if he isn't right. They're going after a bloody cannibal."

Caleb paled. "Shit! And John's going after it with just his two boys as backup? He's going to get them killed."

"Yeah, well, hopefully Sam can convince his father that they're prepped for the wrong monster."

"When has that stubborn son of a bitch ever listened to anyone other than himself?" Bobby asked coming in to the room. "When was the last time you heard from Sammy?"

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. "About six hours ago. He was going to check in with me again just before midnight."

"Where are they hunting this thing?" Caleb looked over the maps.

"Not far, actually, up in Watertown." Harry pushed a few of the larger maps off to the side and retrieved one of the Northern Midwest, laying it out flat for the two older hunters to see. "John may have been right and he started tracking a Vetala but at some point their paths crossed with the Rugaru coming down from Canada. I've tracked it back up through North Dakota and into Manitoba, over Saskatchewan and starting in Northern Alberta. It's been feeding off of kids and teenagers, mostly, but I think that may have been a pre-existing predilection from before it turned. There was a psychotic paedophile that came out of Slave Lake, Alberta who's gone off the grid. I think he was the Rugaru."

Caleb swore scanning more of the newspaper clippings Harry had gathered. "If you're right, John's walking into the path of this Rugaru with perfect bait. Sam fits the description of the kids this thing's killed."

"That's exactly why I've been trying to get a hold of him. The Rugaru aspect is bad enough, but the rest of it..."

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Kid?" Bobby asked, taking off his ever present ball cap and running a hand over his hair before putting it back. "I would have gone over to Watertown myself to knock some sense into that damn fool Winchester."

"And tell him what, Bobby? That his own son didn't trust his research and called the Wizard for help?" Harry shook his head. "Besides, I didn't find the connection to the guy up in Slave Lake until a couple hours ago. I've tried calling Sam a couple times but he doesn't answer. I left messages though and I know he checks those regularly even if he can't call back."

"There's nothing to be done about it just now." Caleb reached over and put a hand on his worried son's shoulder. "You did good, Harry. You and Sam worked together to confirm the hunt and you went beyond that to find the source. You've let him know so the kid's been warned. Whatever happens now is on John."

"I know," Harry slumped back into his chair. "I just don't like not being able to do more. I don't have many friends left and I'd like to hang on to the ones I do have. Sam's smart and John should listen to him more. If John's stubborn ass gets Sam hurt or killed I'll give him a real reason to hate me."

Bobby snorted and ruffled the kid's dark hair. "You do, I want front row seats."

"Bobby," Caleb chided, though he wouldn't mind seeing his son take the obstinate hunter to task. "How long have you been going over this information, Harry?"

The teenager shrugged. "I don't know, a couple hours."

"A couple days," Bobby corrected as he moved across the kitchen to the fridge. He opened the appliance and snagged a trio of beers, handing them out to the others and ignoring Caleb's frown when Harry took the one offered to him. "You've been edgy since you Dad left and now you haven't slept since Sam called you two days ago."

"Harry," Caleb sighed and twisted the cap of his bottle, decidedly ignoring when Harry did the same without a second thought. "You're going to burn yourself out doing this, kiddo."

Taking a deep swig of the beverage, Harry leaned back in the chair enabling him to see both men easier. "I'm wired, Dad. I'm less than an hour from my Magical Majority and my core's been bugging out for the last seventy-two hours. I couldn't have slept if I wanted to."

"Is that normal?" The father asked, concerned.

"I sent Hedwig off to Rocknose in New York." He assured the man, referring to the NY Goblin that had taken over both Potter and Black accounts. "The reference material he sent back said it's not common but not unheard of either. It just means my core is reacting to the ambient magic as it recognizes my coming of age."

"As long as there's nothing's wrong with your magic." Caleb told his son.

Harry smiled, still touched whenever the man proved time and again he was okay with Harry's powers. "It's good, Dad. The book said that, if anything, it just means my core is more in tuned with the Natural Magics of the world. It didn't go into much detail but Rocknose has promised to find me a few books on the lore of origin of Natural Magic."

"What sort of books?" Bobby perked up at the mention of new books and the other two smirked at the man who was practically salivating.

"Don't worry, Bobby," Harry told him, taking another drink from the beer. "Since I'm never stationary these days I've got him sending all my book requests here. Unless you mind, of course, then I suppose I could see if Pastor Jim-"

"Now you don't want to be saying such things, ya Idjit!" Bobby snapped, sending the other two laughing.

Caleb smiled as he took a drink from his own bottle and started organizing some of the books and papers. "Let's get this mess cleaned up. It's coming on to midnight and if we can get things sorted out before then I'll make you a couple of those BLT sandwiches you like."

"Deal!" Harry chugged back the last of his beer and drew his wand. While he drank he gave the wand a small wave and the books started closing and organizing themselves.

"One, that's cheating," Caleb scolded with a heavy frown. "And two, you're not supposed to be doing magic."

"One of the books Rocknose sent me said that part of my problem is because I have an excess of magic." Harry told his father unrepentantly. "If I don't use it enough it's going to start causing problems."

Caleb set his beer down and crossed his arms over his chest. "More problems than the European Wizards finding you and dragging you back to Britain in chains?"

Harry winced and put his wand down, the books and papers settling where they had been floating. "Point taken." The teenager admitted reluctantly. "But Rocknose is right, Dad; I am going to have to start using more magic. The talisman they gave me is working and has been for the last year. They won't find me as long as I keep that on me." He pulled the small gold pendant up from beneath his shirt, its horned face serene and peaceful, showing it hanging from the gold chain hanging around his neck. "It's still cool."

Sighing, the father closed the distance to his son and crouched down beside the teen's chair and tucked that talisman back beneath the shirt. "One more year, Harry; I just need you to be careful for one more year. Once you're eighteen, and of age here in the US, you can go to the American Magical Congress and petition them for sanctuary. You get that and you're golden; hidden from everyone you want to be hidden from."

Harry leaned in to his father and let their foreheads touch. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know, Dad, and I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

"Alright Jan and Marsha," Bobby snarled as he started for the kitchen door. "I'm getting diabetic just watching the two of ya. Get this room cleaned up then get your scrawny asses into the Library. I can't find where my mess ends and yours starts."

Father and son chuckled but separated. "We'll be right there, Bobby."

"Damn right you will be," the old hunter growled as he disappeared into the hall. The pair remaining shared a look before laughing out right and picking up where Harry's magic had stopped.

Cleaning the kitchen only took a few more minutes and the Library wasn't as bad as Bobby made it out to be. It was his unusual filing and shelving system that made the clean up more time consuming that it should have been.

It was nearing midnight as they finished up when the familiar growl of an engine approached the house. The blaring horn had the three men reaching for various weapons. Bobby grabbed the shotgun by the front door while Caleb withdrew two handguns from his duffle. He tossed one to his son who stayed inside the house while the other two stepped out onto the porch.

They watched while the gravel drive was torn apart beneath the wheels of the sleek black Impala as it raced toward the house. Caleb was tense and the safety was off his pistol by the time the car stopped in front of the front steps. The two hunters waited with stilted breath as John all but scrambled from the driver's seat and yanked the back door open. Reaching inside he moved around a few seconds before coming back out carrying an unconscious body.

"Bobby, get your kit!" The distraught hunter shouted as he approached. The stench of blood was overwhelming as John neared and Dean's body was limp in his father's arms. John stopped on the second stair when he saw Caleb standing there and hesitated.

"Dad!" A blood soaked Sam had rushed up behind his father and brother, but it was obvious none of the blood was the youngest Winchester's. "What-"

"We'll take your brother to the hospital." John snarled, starting to back up when Harry opened the screen door with a furious expression on his face.

"Get him inside before he bleeds to death, you stubborn git!"

There was a fire in Harry's emerald eyes that no one wanted to argue with, and in truth it was apparent John knew his son wouldn't survive the trip into the city to the Hospital. Without wasting another moment, the Winchesters hurried into Bobby's house and followed Bobby's snapped command of "In the spare bedroom!"

"You were right." Sam told Harry as the two youngest followed the bloody procession through the house. "The Rugaru game right for me when it realized Dad was hunting it."

"And Dean stepped between you and it." Harry gently took hold of the younger boy's arm and pulled him toward the bathroom. "Get rinsed off, I'll get some clothes you can wear. They'll take care of Dean, I promise."

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded before disappearing into the bathroom. The door closed and a minute later Harry heard the shower start up. He went on to the spare room, the room he had been staying the last week.

Dean was a mess. His clothes had been removed and Harry could see the gouges and slashes across the older boy's torso. There was a large chunk missing from the side of his neck, like someone had taken a bite out of Dean's throat, and Harry wondered how he had survived this long with the amount of blood he must have lost. The three older hunters were moving around him with an air of desperation, but it was Bobby's face - fallen and resigned to the inevitable - that had Harry moving forward.

"Dad." Harry placed his free hand on his father's back, gaining the man's attention, and was gripping his wand in the other. Caleb looked at his son's face then down at the holly and frowned.

A second later he was nodding and stepped back.

John's head snapped up when Bobby followed suit. "What the hell-?"

"Move." Harry ordered the man, elbowing past him without waiting for a response.

In the back of his mind he heard John shouting for him to get away from Dean, but Harry blocked him out knowing that his father would deal with the man. Harry closed his eyes, letting his magic flow from his core and through the phoenix feather conduit to wash over Dean's dying body. Like the last time he had done this, he felt every hurt as if it was his own and his innate power responded. He inhaled sharply as it began coursing a wave of healing magic through his body. Harry grabbed on to it, pushing it away from him and directing it down into Dean.

The rush of pain and relief was circular, fluctuating around the two teens as one fought to save the life of the other. He could feel Dean fighting the spectre of Death than hung over them both and could sense the older boy weakening. Harry willed a surge of strength through the connection between them and helped the dying boy keep the Reaper at bay.

In the room, Caleb held a thrashing John against the far wall as the visible pulses of magic surrounded their sons. Bobby stood between the two pairs, a line of defense for Harry should John get past Caleb.

"Goddammit!" John roared as he fought the restraining hold. "Get him away from my son!"

"Look at him, John!" Caleb shouted back. "Look at your son!"

"John, he was dying." Bobby pointed out, gesturing to the pile of bloody rags that had been Dean's clothing. "That he was still breathing when you got him here was miracle enough. He won't last another five minutes if you don't shut the hell up and let Harry help him!"

"I won't allow it!"

"Even if it saves him?" Caleb grunted as he barely managed to keep the enraged man pinned to the wall. "For God's sake, John, just look them and tell me that it's wrong!"

Caleb could feel the moment John realized exactly what Harry was doing. The man didn't relax but he stopped fighting and watched as the wounds on Dean's chest had slowly begun to close, the piece of his neck starting to regrow. Taking a chance, Caleb stepped back but didn't completely release his hold.

"Look at them, John," Caleb said calmly to the other father as they watched the wounds slowly knitting back together. "No demon given power can do something like that. Demons don't heal, they hurt. Harry's not like that at all, John. He's a good kid with an amazing heart. Do you know what he's doing? He's using, and magnifying, his own body's natural Healing magic to save your son. He's connected to Dean in a way that has convinced his body that it's the one that was injured and the magic is healing him. That means he's taken the hurt, the pain, everything that Dean was suffering onto himself just so he can save your son."

John inhaled slowly through the nose but didn't say anything.

"How do you know?"

Sam's worried voice sounded in the doorway and three heads turned to see a towel clad teenager standing there watching them all with wide, scared eyes. He didn't look away from his brother or his friend and asked again. "How do you know what he's doing?"

"Because he did it for me." Caleb told them, his gaze going to his son in concern. "I got hurt a couple of months after we started hunting together. It was bad; a poltergeist had brought a building down on us and I was impaled with a broken two by four. I wouldn't have survived the extraction let alone have made it to the hospital. Harry vanished the piece of wood and healed me even though he didn't know how at the time. He said he just wished he could take my pain away and make me live."

"He's doing that for Dean?" Sam took a tentative step toward the bed but stayed back from the still pulsating magic.

"He'd do that for anyone." Bobby amended gravely. "Kid doesn't have a callous bone in his body. If someone's hurt, he's gotta help." He turned a steely glare onto John. "Even you, had it been your sorry ass on that bed. Next time, listen to your kid when he tells you you're hunting the wrong thing."

The room was silent for several minutes until the power surging around the two slowed and faded. Harry's shaking hand fell to his side, the wand clattering to the floor, and Caleb was moving before his son had taken a staggering step back. When the boy's legs couldn't' support him, his father was there to catch him.

"Reaves?" Bobby asked, moving out of the way as John rushed to Dean's side.

Caleb was checking vitals as he supported the insentient weight of his son. "Pulse is strong, breathing good." His hand slid over the throat and he frowned. "The talisman is warm."

"Warm, or hot?" Bobby matched the man's frown.

"Warm; a one hundred mile radius, give or take."

"So not an exact location then. I'll grab his things," Bobby was already moving, picking up the fallen wand and hurrying out the door as he barked his orders. "You get him out to that truck of yours! You're gone in ten."

"What's happening, Caleb?" John's voice was thick with conflicting emotions but there was no animosity in his tone.

As he scooped the unconscious Harry into his arm, Caleb looked over at the three Winchesters. Dean was awake, leaning up on his elbows, with not a scratch on his body. He was looking at Harry with worry. Sam and John were both latched on to Dean, touching his arms or legs to reassure themselves that he was still breathing, but looking to Caleb in confusion.

"Harry used too much of his magic." Caleb told them and shifted the heavy teen to a more comfortable position. "He's got other wizards - bad wizards - looking for him and his magical signature just lit up like a beacon. He has a talisman to keep him hidden, but the amount he just used bled through. They will know the general area he's in and if we don't move they'll have him before morning. So forgive me if we don't stick around."

"You knew this would happen, and you still let him save me?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I don't let him do anything." Caleb started for the door. "If I tried to fight him he would have done it anyway. But yes, I knew this would happen."

Six minutes later, while Harry slept buckled in to the passenger seat of the Dodge truck, Caleb was loading the last of their things into the back when John came out of the house. He seemed to hesitate a moment but proceeded on to the vehicle when Caleb stopped to watch him.

"Tell him I said thank you." John said quietly. "He's put himself at risk because he saved my boy. I won't forget that."

"You're a right bastard, you know that Johnny." Caleb sighed and shook his head. "This changes nothing. You still held a gun to my son's head and would have killed him had I not shown up when I did. I won't forget that either. That being said; Harry would kick my ass if I held a grudge. So, I'll say you're welcome and you owe us. If we can't get ahead of this we will be coming to you for help."

"Maybe you should get behind it." John held his hand out toward the other father. "You need us, we're there."

Shaking hands, Caleb climbed in to the cab of the truck and pulled out of Bobby's yard a minute later. He looked over to his unmoving son. Maybe John was right. Maybe it was time to talk to Jim and Rufus about being more proactive about Harry's situation.

As he drove he glanced at the clock on the dash; it was twenty minutes passed midnight.

"Happy Birthday, son."

**Delta, Colorado**

**October 25, 1997**

Sam was getting worried.

Not about the hunt or his Dad or Dean.

No, Sam was worried about his friend.

It had been two days since he had heard from Harry. After talking and texting back and forth daily for the last couple of months it was unusual to go so long without contact. The last he had heard, Harry and Caleb had been in Malvern, Arkansas. They weren't on a hunt, just staying on the move as they had since August. Always just one step ahead of the Wizard's looking for Harry.

Two days.

Sam was worried.

So when his phone rang he startled his brother and father, who had been going over research for their recent hunt, when he practically leapt out of his skin to answer it. The number was immediately recognized and Sam felt his body relax when he read it.

"Harry?"

_"Sam, is your Dad with you?" _

The momentary relief he had felt fled at the grimness of Caleb's voice. "Yeah, hang on." He flicked a button on his phone and held it out for John and Dean to listen in. "Go ahead Caleb, you're on speaker."

_"John, how soon can you and your boys get to Omaha?"_

"Twelve hours." John answered with a frown, knowing there would be only one reason why the other man was calling him. "Caleb? What's happened?"

_"They got Harry, John."_ Caleb's tone promised a world of hurt to anyone who harmed his son. _"Last night, just outside of Fort Smith."_

Nodding to himself, John closed up his journal and started gather their things. Dean, picking up on the change of plans, followed suit. "Bobby and Jim?"

_"En route, Elkins too."_

"You finally told him?" John asked in amazement.

_"Harry did after we hid out there for a couple days at the end of August. Said he didn't like lying to his friends."_

"Is Harry still alive, Caleb?" Sam asked timidly while the other two Winchesters finished packing up their things.

_"Our contacts in the UK say that they want him for some big ritual Halloween night. That gives us five days to finish it before we go in after him."_

"We've been planning for this, Caleb," John reassured the man, surprising his sons. "We'll get him back."


	5. Sò A (The Fate)

**Author's Note: **This will be the last chapter that deals with anything from the Harry Potter verse. Over all, this story was to be about Harry in the Supernatural world but I realize there were things that needed to be dealt with before that. To keep my sanity, I've ignored a few things from the HP Books. Like Horcruxes. Hated those stupid things. They were a crappy plot device that just should never have happened. And the Weasleys. What an annoying bunch of sycophants!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. It's probably been the hardest chapter to write so far because I wanted certain things to happen. I don't know if I got it right, but it works. Sort of. I hope. Let me know!

**Disclaimer:** None of it is mine! Nada! Zilch! Zip! Zero!

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**CHAPTER FIVE: ****Sò A (The Fate)**

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

**October 26, 1997**

_"Rennervate!"_

The boy had grown a lot in the year he'd been gone. Watching emerald eyes blink away the last of the stunners he'd been struck with it was easy to see the man he was becoming. He'd gained several inches of height and his girth was strong and muscled. His hair was cut short in a military style and without his glasses he was not quite the spitting image of James.

Still, Remus Lupin's heart ached at what his friend's son had become.

Harry looked up from where he lay on the stone floor, his gaze focusing past the bars separating them. "I thought I smelled a sheep in wolf's clothing."

Remus balked at the loathing he heard in the young wizard's tone, but didn't respond.

Bracing his shackled hands on the dungeon floor, a heavy manacle on each wrist with less than a foot of chain between them, the dark haired teenager pushed himself up into a sitting position with his back resting on the opposite wall. His knees came up to his chest and he let his arms drape casually over them. "Are you going to just stand there and stare at me, Lupin? Get comfy, the floor show doesn't start until eleven."

"Don't you get it?" Remus stalked toward the cell. "The power the Dark Lord left inside you the night he killed James and Lily has poisoned you, Harry. The things you've done, because of it, ever since you came back into this world-"

"Do you honestly believe that?" Harry snorted derisively. "God, he's got you so twisted up in what he views as the Greater Good that you've convinced yourself the lies are the truth."

"I didn't need convincing." Remus shook his head sadly. "Once I was free of your manipulations I could see the truth for what it was. If we don't stop you now, you'll be worse than the Dark Lord ever was!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let me tell you about the Dark Lord, Lupin. He was no wizard."

"Then what was he?"

"A demon. A very old, very powerful Demon named Xezbeth who had possessed the muggle son of the squib daughter of the last descendant of Slytherin. Xezbeth is the demon of lies and legends. And sixty years ago he wanted a way into the Wizarding World."

Remus' golden eyes narrowed. "And how do you know all this?"

"Because I went looking for it," Harry sneered. "The most powerful Dark Lord of our time targeted my family, Lupin, and I wanted to know why. So, I had some friends look a few things up for me. Like exactly who Tom Riddle was and where he came from. You know what I found? Absolutely nothing.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle was born in the same orphanage he was raised in and, in the eleven years he was there, there was not one single record of accidental magic. His name isn't even in the Book of Enrollment for Hogwarts any year he attended. The only reason anyone knew he even existed is because someone went looking for him. And guess who that was? Dumbledore."

Opening his mouth to refute what he was hearing Remus was cut off before he began as Harry continued.

"The nuns who ran the orphanage knew something was wrong about Riddle from an early age. They even tried to exorcise him several times. Except Xezbeth is a Prince of Hell; standard exorcisms wouldn't work once he dug his claws in. Poor little Tom Riddle never stood a chance. By the time Dumbledore got there, Xezbeth would have been so deeply entrenched that nothing was getting him out unless he wanted out. But the only place he wanted to go was Hogwarts.

"I don't know what the deal was that was made, but in 1938 Xezbeth came to Hogwarts and seven years later, the same year he 'graduated', Dumbledore suddenly got it into his head to go after Grindelwald. Why is that? What would compel a simple transfiguration professor to think that he was capable of defeating the Wizarding power behind Adolf Hitler?"

"You're saying this Demon-"

"Gave him the power. Xezbeth created the Legend of Dumbledore." Harry interrupted. "It's what it does, Lupin. It makes deals with people who don't just want fame and fortune, but infamy and their names in the annals of history. When that fame begins to wane people will anything to keep it, most of the time earning a one way trip to Hell without Xezbeth having to deal for them.

"Now, thirty years is a long time to rest on your laurels. Other than having a few prestigious titles handed to him, what else has Dumbledore done? Twelve uses of Dragons Blood? Big deal, nobody really cares. His work in Alchemy? Nicolas Flamel's name is more recognizable in that field. Dumbledore needed something to bring his name back into the limelight.

"Then Xezbeth comes back, touting the name Voldemort, and all but daring Dumbledore to come stop him. It would have been another feather in his cap, except Dumbledore forgot the cardinal rule when it comes to demons: The power a demon grants can never be used against it. No matter how many times Dumbledore tried, he was never going to defeat Voldemort. Didn't people wonder why the great and powerful Albus couldn't dispatch one piddly little Dark Wizard? Grindelwald was a worldwide threat; Voldemort hadn't branched out yet and was only a problem here in the UK. "

Remus was bristling but couldn't find his tongue to refute what the teenager was saying. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it was making all kinds of terrible sense.

"Tarnishing his fading star even more," Harry continued, seeing he was getting to the man, "was the Prophecy. '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who will thrice defy him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the Other... for one cannot live while the second survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._'

"I'm still torn on who exactly the Dark Lord truly is, but at the time Dumbledore saw this Child of Prophecy as someone who would replace him as Savior of the Wizarding World. Dumbledore couldn't have that, so he set up the two children who fit the criteria of Trelawney's prediction as he interpreted it. He just never counted on Xezbeth having a different agenda.

"When Xezbeth showed up that night, he didn't come to Godric's Hollow to kill me. My parents, yes, but I was never a target. He'd heard of another demon in America that was building a host of psychic children dosed with his blood. It was meant to increase their natural gifts and enslave them to him. It didn't work, mind you, not like he hoped, but that's not the point. The point is that Xezbeth wondered what would happen if the demon given power of a Wizard - albeit millennia removed from the original source - was augmented with fresh demon blood."

That caught Remus' attention and the werewolf discovered his voice. "What do you mean demon given power?"

"Myrddin Emrys - we also call him Merlin - was a Cambion, a half demon." Harry explained smugly. "He was the son of Marchosias, a Marquis of Hell, and wrote in his journal the story his was told of the origin of Magical Humans. Lilith, the first wife of Adam, would not be dominated by him and, when she would not conform, God punished her and she became the first demon. Except she was with child and when she birthed him she gave birth to the first Wizard. I have a copy of the journal the Goblins found for me. I'll lend it to you."

Remus could only gape.

"The demon part of Wizards is so diluted it's negligible and, in time, we will eventually breed magic out of us if we keep having babies with muggles; the purebloods were right about that. But that night, Halloween 1981, Xezbeth cut my forehead open-" Harry reached up with his chained hands and fingered the scar prominent on the skin. "-and mingled our blood together. He was not, however, prepared for the backlash of power. He was expelled from Riddle's body and banished back to Hell. It took him years to claw his way back to Earth, out a Devil's Gate in Albanian forest, but he couldn't get back into the Wizarding World. In the end it was Quirrell who brought him back when the stupid man had gone there to summon him and try to make a deal with a devil.

"No longer content to just possess another's body, Xezbeth wanted one of his own. So he plotted and planned and, since he couldn't get near Hogwarts to do the job himself - Did you know Dumbledore had warded the school against Demons after my first year? - had me kidnapped the night of the third task. He used my blood - his blood, really - to call forth his physical manifestation. Now, with his own body, the demon's powers are stronger and he will be near impossible to defeat should he begin his campaign of terror again. Dumbledore's only chance of stopping him is to use my blood - Xezbeth's blood - in another ritual to siphon my power into Dumbledore himself. He does that and Albus' star will shine brighter than Merlin himself. Isn't that right, Headmaster?"

_"Silencio!"_

Remus spun around in surprise as the charm struck the caged boy, startled to find Dumbledore and Snape standing behind him. Both men wore grim expressions and the twinkle was missing from Albus' normally jovial blue eyes.

"Do not listen to his lies, Remus," Albus cajoled as he drew nearer to the bars. "Mr. Potter has fallen further to the Dark then I imagined. I fear, even should the ritual purge him of the Dark powers of Voldemort, his soul will be lost to us."

Glaring at the three men watching him, Harry flipped them the bird and looked away.

Remus sighed, any doubts he had about the Headmaster were fleeing in the man's presence. "James and Lily would be heartbroken to see him like this."

"As am I." Albus placed a hand on Remus' back and turned him from the cell, guiding him out of the room and into the hall. "You don't need to return here, Remus. Severus has agreed to guard him and, with Mr. Potter chained and silenced, he is no longer a threat. We will keep him hidden in the deepest part of the castle until we are ready for the ritual. Do not give up hope, Remus. While damaged, Mr. Potter may yet come back to us the good lad he was meant to be. But do not torment yourself needlessly. If the ritual succeeds, he will understand why we have done as we have."

**Ministry of Magic, London**

**October 31, 1997 (8:45am)**

"This can't be true." Minister Scrimgeour looked up from the information that had been presented him and frowned at the monocle-speckled woman sitting across from him. "Where did you get this?"

"My source is impeachable, Minister," Amelia Bones told the Minister of Magic confidently. "I've also confirmed it with both the Goblins of Gringotts and the American Magical Congress. I'm afraid we've been lied to by a master, Rufus."

The greying red-haired man was fuming. "What can we do? To go against Dumbledore-"

"We don't have to do anything." The head of the DMLE assured the man. "He crossed the line, Rufus. He had his people carry out an assault on American soil and they have kidnapped an American Wizard who is still a minor under their laws! That that wizard happens to be Harry Potter is neither here nor there. The ICW has stripped Dumbledore of his position; the issued warrants for Mr. Potter have been revoked, all in the last four hours and all because of this evidence. And it has been strongly suggested to me by the ICW to rescind our arrest warrants by the end of the day. The Americans want him back, Rufus, and they've got a team in place just waiting for the go ahead."

"What do they need from us?" Rufus demanded. "They can have it! I want Dumbledore gone! I will see him thrown through the Veil for what he's done!"

"They just want to know where." Amelia gave the Minister a sly smile. "The team has already dealt with the nastier elements of this and they are preparing to move in to end it."

Lips pursed as he held back his rage, Rufus Scrimgeour nodded. "Hogwarts; I'm supposed to be there, along with several others, before sunset to witness the ritual. I can get them in."

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

**October 31, 1997 (5:15pm)**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was very happy man. For the first time in more than a year, things were finally going right. Well, at least more right than they had been after Harry Potter led his friends that fateful night to the Ministry of Magic. Who would have thought that the death of a single muggle-born, and the permanent damaging of a pureblood, would see the galvanization of the Wizarding world?

It was something that Albus had been striving for for nearly a century.

He and Gellert had great plans for the Wizards and Witches of the world. It was a shame that his partner had gone the way he had. Consorting with the Germans had been the man's second biggest mistake; the first when he had murdered Albus' sister so callously. If Gellert had just agreed that Albus world view was so much better than his own they wouldn't have fought and dear Ariana wouldn't have been hurt.

Really, it had been all Gellert's fault.

When he had been a young transfiguration professor, Dumbledore came to realize that he didn't need a partner. No, he needed an enemy. The Wizarding World needed a common enemy, someone they could band together around defeating. And the General who led them in that defeat would be revered and loved and could guide them into the Utopia of his design. It was truly a perfect plan; he just didn't have the strength to carry it out. Albus had always been the brains of their partnership, but Gellert was the one with the power.

So while Gellert played with the Muggles, Dumbledore sought a Wizarding enemy. The line of Slytherin was loathed across the UK and years of searching had led Albus to Little Hangleton and then to the orphanage in London. He had not been prepared for what he found.

The Demon inside the last descendant of Slytherin had been a blessing and a curse. The thing had wanted inside the Wizarding World, promising Dumbledore power in exchange for helping the creature breach through the secrecy and security of Dumbledore's world. All it had wanted was information, to study and learn about the Wizarding World. Really what harm could it cause that Dumbledore would not be able to contain? So the deal had been made and Tom Riddle came to Hogwarts.

And Dumbledore was given the power he needed to defeat his former partner.

And he had been loved for it.

The Demon's mark on his chest, a small snake slithering from the gaping maw of a skull, had been easy to hide. Taming his familiar when he came across the injured bird had been more difficult. The phoenix, a being of pure Light, had not agreed with the deal he had made. It had taken several weeks but, in the end, he had been able to force the familiar bond with the firebird. With Fawkes tethered to him, the world accepted him as their Leader of the Light.

Titles and awards were bestowed upon him, but it was the position of Headmaster that he had coveted. With it he could influence and rear generations of Witches and Wizards to his way of thinking and create his Utopian world. They would revere him and his name would be remembered throughout the ages as the Savior of the Wizarding World.

Within his first years as Headmaster, the Demon inside Riddle made its appearance. It threatened to reveal Dumbledore's dark secret unless he was given access to the castle. Under the guise of applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arks professorship, Albus allowed the Demon entrance. The thing in Riddle's body spent hours inside the Library, though Albus could never figure out what it had been researching.

Years passed after that and Albus was content in his role in the Wizarding World. Ministers from around the world looked to him for guidance; an entire generation of Witches and Wizards had learned at his feet; his legend was growing and he was happy.

Then Voldemort reared his ugly head.

That damned Demon had been working for decades inside the Wizarding World, dealing and binding hundreds of Witches and Wizards to it, and was ready to use the Wizards to bring war and Armageddon to the Muggles. Realizing it was his doing, his fault the Demon had gained access to their world, Albus began his fight against the Demon. Except he was unable to use the powers given to him by that very same Demon against it and Dumbledore was losing. His legend began to fade.

But then the Prophecy was made and Dumbledore had hope again.

As a babe, neither child was capable of facing the Demon. It was relatively easy to convince both families to trust him and go into hiding, though Lily Potter had taken a bit more convincing, and even easier to lead the Demon's followers to them. The Child of Prophecy would perish, and the spells and magic weaved into the protection spells Albus cast over the children would siphon their magic, as they died, to him. With the added power, he would be able to send the Demon back to hell.

And yet, somehow, little Harry Potter lived. To this day, he still didn't know by what means Lily and James had been able to protect their son. The Demon had been banished from Riddle's body but Tom had spent most of his life possessed by the Demon; his soul had long ago been consumed and the body perished without it. The Demon still lived, however, and Dumbledore knew it would be back.

But Harry - the little orphaned boy who had done the impossible and survived the attack - was a weapon just begging to be used. If honed and forged just right, no other but Dumbledore would wield him and the Wizarding World would look to Albus again. And for fourteen years his plans went as he wished them to.

Now, however, the world was watching him again. The Demon had returned but had yet to show its hand. His efforts to prepare the World for war had him labeled delusional and power mad and being ignored by the very people he was meat to lead. That would just not do. So when the World began calling for Harry Potter's blood, Dumbledore realized what needed to be done. He had always planned to use Harry as a martyr for the Greater Good; he just adjusted his plans to see the boy regarded as a greater threat than Voldemort had ever been.

Finally, things were going right for him again. Fudge and Umbridge had been easily removed and Scrimgeour moved into their place. Rufus was a true politician; everything he did was about image and perception and how things could be twisted to his benefit. He was perfect for Dumbledore's manipulations.

With the backing of the Wizengamot and most of the ICW, the international Warrants for Potter's arrest had been easily issued. The Americans, Russians and Chinese had refused to abide by the warrants and had assured the ICW that if the boy was found hiding in their countries he would not be extradited back to Britain. Those had been the first countries Albus had initiated his clandestine searches of. It had been luck that Harry's magic signature had been located a few months ago, and after an exhaustive game of cat and mouse, Harry Potter was now a guest in the lowest levels of Hogwarts' dungeons.

It was worrisome that Harry knew as much as he did. Dumbledore had never known the Demon's name but what he found on the name Xezbeth confirmed everything Harry had told Remus. What the boy had postulated happening that night in 1981 was as frightening as it was exhilarating. It would explain so many things about Harry Potter as well as fit the prophecy. With Xezbeth's blood, the power would not be hindered like the power granted to Albus all those years ago. Harry had truly been marked the Demon's equal and it excited Albus.

The ritual Dumbledore planned for sunset would see the boy's magic stripped, a partial truth told to the others as a means to contain the budding Dark Lord, and merge the power with Albus' own. The boy was incredibly powerful, already as powerful as Albus had been at his prime; no doubt the result of his core behind enhanced at such a young age. With that added strength Albus held no doubt that he would be able to deal with the Demon and once again become the saviour the Wizarding World needed.

After all, the prophecy never said who would wield the Power to Defeat the Dark Lord.

"Albus, the children are beginning to return from Hogsmead."

The Headmaster looked up from his preparations in the center of the Great Hall and smiled at his Deputy. Minerva had been a constant support and he would see her greatly rewarded in the coming years. Once his power base was secure he would perhaps finally settle down and produce a proper heir; Minerva was aged, but not enough to prove too difficult to conceive.

"Thank you, Professor." Albus went back to his work, his wand directing a thin beam of magic to carve the last of the runes into the hexagram he had etched into the stone floor.

The woman's lips were pursed as she watched him, a small frown coloring her features. "Are you certain this is necessary, Headmaster?"

The white haired wizard didn't pause in his work. His power wove into his words, ensuring the woman's belief in what he said was absolute. "He is a danger to our way of life, Minerva. I fear the power left inside him when Voldemort was defeated all those years ago has corrupted him. He colluded with Sirius Black and had us convinced of the man's innocence. He murdered poor Cedric and had us convinced of Voldemort's return. For whatever reasons his infiltration of the Death Room, he murdered one friend and attempted the Murders of four others. That Sirius Black was killed in their stead was a blessing. On his own he has been unable to strengthen his grip on our society. We must do what we must for the Greater Good of the World."

McGonagall was still frowning, but nodded. "I'll see to it that the younger students understand why they are being sequestered to their common rooms for the feast this year and that the Sixth and Seventh years appreciate the gravity of the ritual they will be witnessing. With the stripping of his magic, perhaps we can again see the peace we enjoyed before Potter's return to the Wizarding World."

The smile on the Headmaster's face was not a kind one, but the woman had already left the hall and did not see. Yes, he would see her rewarded. She would make a fine mother for his heir - not that he planned on needing one. With the Flamel's stone residing among his possessions he would personally see the Wizarding World prosper for millennia to come.

**Hogwarts, Scotland**

**October 31, 1997 (6:15pm)**

Seventeen year old Neville Longbottom watched the grim events unfolding around him. The world, in his opinion, had gone mad. Leading the charge into insanity was the Headmaster himself. How anyone could believe most of the stuff the old man was saying was beyond the Gryffindor. Judging by the faces of his allies, it was beyond them too.

"You will be witness to history," Headmaster Dumbledore was saying to the senior students and visiting dignitaries. More than a dozen heads from the Ministry of Magic were present, as well as Minister Scrimgeour and a team of two dozen red hooded Aurors. Members of the press were counted among the guests, some of them from other countries. Dumbledore was certainly making a spectacle of this atrocity; a ritual that had not been considered for even the darkest of Wizards since the age of Merlin.

"Tonight we'll rid our world of the greatest threat to it since the height of Voldemort's campaign." Dumbledore continued from the dais where he stood in front of his opulent chair at the head table. "This rising Dark Lord has murdered great Wizards and Witches since his return to the Wizarding world six years ago; he has made a mockery of these hallowed halls; he had poisoned our allies against us. Tonight, he will be stripped of his power before he can destroy the peace we have fought, bled, and died for!"

The applause the man received was thunderous and Neville didn't even bother to join in with the throng. The whole thing disgusted him. He stood where the removed Gryffindor table once resided, only a few meters from the circled pentagram engraved into the floor, a frown on his face and his wand held at his side. Glancing around the Great Hall he saw the same expression mirrored on others as well.

The entire Hall went still when the doors suddenly swung open and a chained Harry Potter was escorted at wand point into the Hall.

The teenager, only a day younger than Neville, kept his head high despite his situation. His muggle clothing was torn in several places, dried blood stains proof that the young wizard had put up a fight when he'd been taken. Heavy manacles bound his wrists together in front of him and a thick leather strap covered Harry's mouth.

The heavy doors were shut behind the entering group and sealed to prevent any interruptions to the ritual about to take place. Snape led the grim procession up the center aisle with Lupin, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Tonks, Shacklebolt and Moody surrounding the supposed Dark Wizard. As the group passed him, Neville was relieved to see the fire still burning in Harry's emerald eyes. And that fire was aimed directly at Dumbledore.

"From this point on, there can be no magic." The Headmaster climbed down from the dais, walking toward the group when they stopped with Harry standing in the center of the pentagram. "The runes of the circle will power the ritual once it begins and any interference will have grave consequences to all of us present."

Harry didn't turn his hateful glare from Dumbledore when the cuffs were taken from his wrists or when he was forced to his knees. Charlie and Remus stood on either side of the young wizard, holding tight to his arms, while Tonks and Bill reached down to pick up a short length of chain that had been secured to the floor.

Neville's eyes went wide when he saw the inside of the cuffs that would be used to shackle his friend in place; rows of teeth lined the metal manacles and bit into Harry's skin when they were clasped around his wrists. Despite how painful it must have been there was no change to the expression on Harry's face.

Neville flicked his eyes around and, by the looks of those nearby, knew he wasn't the only one who noticed the jagged spikes. His gaze fell on the Minister and his entourage; the Aurors had begun to spread out around the hall. The young Gryffindor tightened his grip on his wand.

When the first drop of blood seeped from beneath the shackle, Dumbledore smiled. "You will soon be purged of the dark power inside you, my boy. Perhaps, without it, you can feel remorse for the lives you have so callously taken."

Harry's hands fisted at his side and he inhaled sharply through his nose. The blood was flowing steadily, leeched from his body by the magic of the runes and glyphs that marked the pentagram beneath him. Even as his blood ran down the length of chain and began to fill the channels etched into the floor, Harry's glare never wavered. His eyes locked with Dumbledore's and there was a light of victory in younger wizard's eyes.

Neville didn't understand Harry's expression until an applauding figure suddenly appeared lounging in Dumbledore's throne-like chair with its feet kicked up onto the head table.

"Bravo, Headmaster." The sibilant voice had the old man's head snapping away from Harry's face.

The man was not human, that much was readily apparent. His pallid, waxy skin; the snake-like features; the crimson orbs that served as eyes; Lord Voldemort had shown his face.

Screams echoed in the hall as the students and guests took in the creature before them. Those closest to the dais scrambled away from the monstrosity and many rushed toward the entrance, only to be held back by the seals doors. Neville turned his eyes back to Harry, watching his bleeding friend closely as the drama played out around him.

Dumbledore had drawn his wand, his calm facade faltering at the other's sudden arrival, aiming it steadily at the Dark Lord. "You cannot be here!"

"I assure you, I can." Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into a vicious smile.

"How?" Albus demanded. "I have warded the castle against your entry!"

"Quite simple, my friend." Voldemort hissed smugly. "You have desecrated the Heart-Stone of Hogwarts with innocent blood. You're wards mean nothing now."

Dumbledore's eyes went wide with realization and he looked back down at the blood still flowing in to the crevices in the stone. Glancing up he saw the Aurors moving about the room, circling through the crowd, and knew he needed to give them time to flank the Dark Lord. "He is no innocent!"

An undignified snort escaped Voldemort and the Dark Lord rolled his eyes. "Please. Let's not pretend anymore. Harry Potter is no Dark Wizard let alone a murderer. And just to make it worse for you, my dear Albus, the whole world now knows it."

Beneath the white beard, Dumbledore paled dramatically and his wand wavered. He glanced around the room again and Neville had to smile when the old man realized it was not Voldemort the Aurors had flanked. A look unlike any ever seen on the Leader of the Light before twisted the man's features into a vicious mask. "We had a deal!"

"Really, Albus, are you truly that dense?" Voldemort's grin was chilling. "I made a better deal."

Several things happened at once.

Rufus Scrimgeour, as well as the other Minister Department Heads, drew their wands and covered many of the Hogwarts staff. Neville stepped out of the crowd, along with nearly three dozen students from all four houses, with his wand at the ready and aimed at the rest of the guests around them. The Aurors now positioned throughout the room held their wands aloft, though five of them held muggle weapons. It was those five that pushed the hoods of their cloaks back as they drew closer.

Jim Murphy held his shotgun at the six Order of the Phoenix members who stood only a few feet away from the kneeling Harry. He motioned with the barrel of the weapon. "Wands on the floor. Now."

He was joined by a severe looking Bobby Singer, the gruff looking hunter holding a riffle threateningly on them. "Listen to the preacher, gents. And, using the term lightly, lady."

As the stunned six complied, John and Dean Winchester moved between the Headmaster and Harry while the fifth man tucked his pistol into the folds of his Auror robe and hurried to Harry's side.

"No, get away from him!" Dumbledore roared, turning his wand to the man only to freeze when he felt the tip of Snape's wand at the base of his neck. The old man gaped at his right hand man. "Severus-?"

"You won't need this." The potions master reached out and took the wand from Dumbledore's hand, holding it out for the youngest American to take.

Dean let the slender piece of wood slip through his fingers and clatter on the floor. Without taking his eyes, or revolver, off Dumbledore he brought the heel of his boot down on the wand. The snap of elder wood echoed through the stunned silence of the Great Hall and Dean just smirked. "Oops."

Shackles fell away from bloodied wrists, the clang of metal on stone drawing attention back to center of the Hall. Neville stepped forward, helping the man as he guided Harry to a spot on the floor away from the pentagram. Neville quickly unclasped and removed the leather gag from Harry's mouth. He could feel the eyes of the Headmaster staring at them but he ignored it as Luna joined them and assisted the man while he wrapped bandages around Harry's wrists.

It was Harry who met Albus' gaze and smiled. "Headmaster Dumbledore, allow me to introduce to you Caleb Potter-Reaves, eldest son of Charlus and Dorea Potter. My father."

The declaration had nearly everyone turning to stare at the pair. During that distraction, Voldemort came down from the dais and stood next to the disgraced Headmaster. "Not quite what you wanted, Albus, but your name will be remembered throughout history as the bastard who tried to sacrifice the Boy-Who-Lived to a demon."

Neville wanted to laugh when he heard that.

The doors to the hall were unsealed and most of the guests and students were escorted out by the Aurors and ministry heads. Tonks, Remus, Moody and the two Weasleys were arrested, as were McGonagall and the rest of the staff. They would be examined by the healers at St. Mungo's and those found to be under Dumbledore's compulsions would be treated and, in time, released.

"You all right?" Caleb asked his son quietly.

"Professor Snape made sure I was well cared for." Harry nodded wearily, leaning back against his father's chest. "Where's my wand?" He asked Caleb.

"I left it with Sam and Daniel back in London." Caleb answered with a light frown. "I knew you'd be in no condition to be using magic."

The dark haired boy sighed but nodded. He turned to Neville and tilted his head toward the blood stained pentagram. "Neville, would you mind?"

Neville placed a gentle hand on his friend's leg. "Not at all, Harry." He pointed his want as the circle. "_Incendio Ampliusor_!"

A burst of fire exploded from the tip of the wand and struck the stones. The flames spread quickly throughout the circle, burning up the blood and charring the channels carved into the floor. In less than a minute all traces of Harry's blood were gone, though the blackened pentagram remained.

"It was a very fine plan, Harry," Luna said as she cuddled against his side, "but did you have to bleed so much?"

Harry smiled softly at the petite blonde. "At least I had a plan this time."

"It was risky," Caleb admitted, absently petting at Harry's dark hair, "but, unless we wanted to keep running the rest of your life, it was necessary."

"Mr. Potter-Reaves?" The Minister of Magic stood off to the side with the Head of the DMLE beside him. They were alone in the hall now with just the Hunters, Neville, Luna, Harry, Severus, Voldemort and Dumbledore. Everyone else was gone and the doors were once again shut. Scrimgeour held out a small vial to Caleb containing a deep red liquid. When the father arched his eyebrow in cautious question, Rufus explained. "A blood replenishing potion. It'll help him recover more quickly."

When Harry had drained the vial, Madame Bones addressed them. "I would see Albus Dumbledore taken before the Wizengamot and on trial for what he's done to you and our World, Lord Black-Potter. But, as I understand it, there have been other arrangements made?"

Harry looked over to the Headmaster who had not moved from his spot and reluctantly stood, Caleb and Neville supporting him when he wavered. "Would you like to hear a story, Dumbledore?"

Surrounded by the hunters and Snape, weapons aimed and ready, Albus remained silent even as the being that was Voldemort chuckled. "You'll like this, Albus."

Harry flicked an unamused glare at the Demon made flesh but ignored the comment. "A couple months ago, my father-"

"Your father is dead," Dumbledore interrupted. "This muggle is an agent of Voldemort sent to deceive you and turn you away from the Light!"

Everyone just stared incredulously at the man. Harry shook his head and started again. "A couple months ago, my father and I decided we would stop reacting to you and your minions and work on getting you to leave me alone once and for all. We started researching Voldemort and why he came after my family. There had to be more to it than just that farce of a prophecy you told me after Sirius died. Professor Snape was able to fill me in on a lot of your manipulations after he realized it was you who set him up to feed part of the prophecy to Voldemort."

Dumbledore turned a vicious glare on his former compatriot. "You betrayed me, Severus!"

"You were going to sacrifice Lily's son," Severus sneered as only he could. "My vow was not to serve you but to protect him. My honor demanded nothing less."

"With his information and aid, my friends-" Harry continued and motioned to Neville and Luna. "-were able to confirm our suspicions about Tom Riddle since I couldn't come back to England to look myself."

"He really is the bright little Wizard," Voldemort conjured a plush chair and sat in it to watch the proceedings. "Damned brat had it figured out after a couple of weeks. He had the gall to summon me and had me dead to rights. How you found that devil's trap..."

"It pays to have friends in low places." Harry didn't turn his eyes from the fuming Headmaster. "Literally. The goblins were more than willing to help me out for the right price. And once trapped, Xezbeth was more than happy to tell me all your dirty little secrets."

"But the Prophecy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "You're meant to destroy one another!"

Neville snorted. "That's your interpretation, dumbass." He blushed when everyone looked at him and he realized he had spoken aloud.

Harry smirked and turned back to Dumbledore. "He's right. That's one interpretation, but I think the one my father and I came up with fits better. Tell me, Dumbledore, how many times did you have to argue with my Mother before she agreed to let you cast the Fidelius Charm? It was three, wasn't it Professor Snape? She only consented after the fourth attempt to convince her. And I know for a fact that Dad has 'Defied' you at least three times in the last sixteen months."

"I am no Dark Lord!" Dumbledore roared indignantly. "I am the Leader of the Light!"

"Professor Snape, if you could please?"

The greasy haired man sneered. "With pleasure. _Denudo! Detego! "_

Dumbledore's clothing all vanished with the first spell, causing the old Wizard to hastily cover his genitalia with his hands, and the second had the concealing charm on his chest receding. Displayed prominently and directly over his heart was the infamous Dark Mark of Voldemort.

"Nice ink you got there, Gandalf," Dean scoffed.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Director Bones intoned gravely, "you are hereby under arrest for colluding with a Demonic Entity and allowing said Entity entrance into our World; a crime that had not been committed in over six hundred years. Should you be convicted in front a panel of your peers, your life and magic will be forfeit."

"No prison will hold me!" Dumbledore sneered. He seemed to be expecting something to happen, but when nothing did his face showed his confusion.

"If you're waiting for your Phoenix," Voldemort smiled serenely, which on his face was very unsettling, "He won't come anymore. I revoked my gift to you, Albus, and without my powers the bond you forced upon that abhorrent creature broke. He's long gone by now."

Harry pulled away from Caleb and Neville, still somewhat unsteady but not as pale or shaky as he had been. He walked toward Dumbledore and stopped a few feet from the man. "What you wanted for the Wizarding World was not wrong; a world of peace and prosperity for everyone. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. You may not have sold your soul to Xezbeth, but you made a deal with a devil. You've done evil things, Dumbledore, and you will burn in Hell for what you've done."

"And what about you?" The defeated man jeered. "You made a deal yourself!"

"Actually, he didn't. I did." Scrimgeour admitted regally. "When I joined up with the Americans before coming here, I was approached by Lord Voldemort-"

"I think you can call me Xezbeth, Rufus." The Demon said. "We made a deal, we should be on a first name basis."

"-Xezbeth, then." Rufus amended before continuing. "I'm a politician, Albus. I want to remain in power, but if you were to stand trial I would be drummed out of the Ministry for following you in your mad crusade against Lord Black-Potter. Xezbeth has kindly agreed to keep me in power for the next three terms as Minister, not too unreasonable I think, in exchange for one soul. Yours. Payment up front. All I had to do was allow the ritual to progress far enough that Lord Black-Potter's blood touched the Heart-Stone of Hogwarts and your wards against the Demon fell."

"You've already got a one way ticket," Xezbeth explained, rising to his feet and dispelling the chair he had conjured. He approached a now fearful Dumbledore. "Had it for more than five decades! But with you using that pesky Philosopher Stone, and you hidden away behind your wards, I'd have been waiting countless decades for you to make your way down to the rack. This way, I get you there so much quicker."

"He's also agreed to stay out of the Wizarding World for the next century." Rufus went on smugly. "Really, I think I got the better end of the deal."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Xezbeth was suddenly standing behind Dumbledore, his fingers digging into the flesh of the quivering man's throat. "What do you think, Albus? What can I possibly have that's going to entertain me for the next one hundred years? Now, I think it best if we take ourselves into the other room, dear Albus. These nice people don't need to watch as my Hell Hounds rip the soul from your body and drag it to hell."

In a blink of an eye, the two were gone. A few seconds later Dumbledore's screams could be heard coming from the Antechamber behind the dais, echoing throughout the castle, only to go silent a moment after they began. Severus was the one to check the room after things had gone quiet, and when he returned after a minute he was ghostly pale and shaking.

Seeing everyone watching him, the man cleared his throat. "Albus is no longer there and the... mess he left behind had been vanished; though the Elves may have a difficult time removing the stains."

"Lord Black-Potter," Amelia's quiet voice resounded in the stillness of the Hall, "I regret to inform you that Albus Dumbledore has escaped custody. Given his obsession with you, it is the suggestion of the Ministry of Magic that you leave the country for the time being." She glared at the young wizard then, distaste at the proceedings evident on her face. "Don't come back."

Harry snorted and gave his father a crooked smile. "I think I can do that."

**40 000 Feet, North Atlantic Ocean**

**November 2, 1997**

"Think we could keep the plane?"

Harry looked up from the book he'd been reading and watched his father sit in his own plush, leather seat. The seventeen year old hunter smiled. The Jet the Goblins had arranged for his Father and the other hunters to take over to the UK was a luxury none of them had ever imagined. With three different passenger areas - a sitting area, a dining room and a bedroom with en suite which Dean was currently occupying as the teenager would only agree to fly after being dosed and left to sleep through the flight -it was easy to forget they were cruising at a speed of nearly 600 miles per hour. The others were currently enjoying a five star meal prepared by the plane's staff, leaving Caleb and his son alone for the moment.

"Oh sure," Harry smirked, "we'll use it when we travel between hunts. It only cost about fifteen thousand dollars per flying hour. Or we could buy it. I think the information the goblins left for me gave it a price tag of about thirty-eight million dollars, not including pilots or flight staff."

"Ouch," Caleb winced, "good point." The older man watched Harry for a moment, frowning as he regarded his son. "Do you think Xezbeth was telling the truth? About what happened the night he killed your parents? Demons lie."

"They also tell the truth." Harry sighed, but nodded. "It makes sense, Dad. I cast a patronus when I was thirteen; one strong enough to banish nearly a hundred dementors in a feeding frenzy. No fully matured Wizard can do that, and I did it when I was a child. The healing thing I did with you and Dean; again, I've never heard of another Wizard being able to manipulate magic like that."

"Who all knows?" Caleb asked gravely.

"You, me, Bobby, Pastor Jim, Professor Snape and Remus."

"The Wizards? Is that a good idea?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know how far under Dumbledore's spell Remus was, or if he was just so blinded by the man's generosity to a 'beast' like him that he'd believe anything, but either way he won't believe what I told him. No one will, if he tells anyone else. He is a werewolf, after all; a Dark Creature. And Severus made an unbreakable vow the night my mother died to protect me. He won't tell anyone."

"I suppose that's true," Caleb sighed. "No one else can know, Harry; not even Sam."

"I know," the teenager acknowledged, "and I don't plan on telling anyone else, ever. I don't like the idea of Xezbeth's blood in me any more than you do, Dad. But, considering I'm a Wizard, and if you believe what was written in Merlin's journal, it just means I've got a little more demon in me than the rest of them."

Caleb was nodding, then paused. "You could go back, you know. You don't have to run anymore."

"To England?" Harry put his book aside and shook his head. "And do what, Dad? Go back to Hogwarts? It's going to be a mess there with all the teachers under investigation and undergoing treatment at St. Mungo's. Besides, other than Neville and Luna, there's nothing there for me. And they'll both be gone within the year. As far as I'm concerned, as long as they keep to themselves, leave me and mine alone, and don't involve the normal people of the world, the Wizard World can go to Hell in a hand basket."

"So what are you going to do now?" His father asked, trying to sound casual but there was a hint of fear in his tone. "You've got your High School Diploma; you could go to college."

"England? College?" Harry frowned. "Do you want me to go? I know it's not fun having a kid tagging around, especially one you never planned on raising or having to protect from most of the other hunters, so I'll go if you want me to."

"God, no!" Caleb exclaimed quickly, reaching over to place a hand on Harry's knee. "No, I never want you to go! I love being a father - being your father! - and I'll keep you with me until you're old and grey if you'll let me! I just... You only ever joined me Hunting because we needed to keep moving; to hide you from Dumbledore. Now you don't have to keep hiding."

"But I like what we do," Harry told him sincerely. "I like travelling with you, seeing the country with you, taking out the baddies that need to be taken out. I love being able to help people; Hermione use to call it my 'Saving People' thing. If I went back to the Wizarding World, or went off to College, I couldn't do that anymore. No more hunting, no more cheap motels and crappy diner food, no more snagging a drink or three with Bobby... I'd have to be respectable!"

Caleb laughed with relief. "Heaven forbid!"

Smiling again, Harry shrugged. "I guess we could keep the plane. Between the Potter and Black fortunes I could but it a hundred times over. We could see about Hunting internationally? I read there was a Devil's Gate in Nabukelevu Volcano in Fiji; we could always check it out. Or what about Mar Chiquita in Argentina? I hear they've got a Shabriri"

"Who's got a demon of blindness?" John asked as he came back from the dining area. Sam was right behind him.

"South America," Harry answered with a smile. "Dad and I were talking about taking a hunt down there; or possibly Fiji."

"You're not buying the plane." Caleb jabbed a finger at his son with a teasing scowl.

Sam's brow wrinkled in through. "Are we thinking about hunting in other countries now?"

"I know of a Shedim in a graveyard in Oaxaca, Mexico." Bobby mentioned as he and the others joined them in the sitting area.

"There was a pair of Ikhthyokentauroi in a lake near Budapest." Daniel offered.

"Somewhere warm, Danny." Harry corrected the man with a smile.

"You're not buying the plane!" Caleb donned a real scowl.

Elkins just shrugged and flopped into a chair. "Okay, what about the Yara-ma-yha-who in Australia?"

"We'd have to get our passports," Jim contributed and took a seat on the leather sofa across from Caleb. "I think mine may have expired in 1988."

"Dean wouldn't like all the air travel," John pointed out.

"If he got to keep the bedroom he'd be okay, I think." Sam suggested.

Harry looked around at everyone then back to his father. "I'll talk to the Goblins when we get back to New York."

"You are not buying the plane!"


	6. Zanmitay La (The Friendship)

**Author's Note:** Can I just say how much fun I had writing this chapter? It was never part of the plan for the story, but I finished writing Chapter 5 and I just had to write this one! lol And seriously, I had a blast! This totally made the story for me!

**Warning: **Excessive cursing and swearing in the chapter! You have been warned!

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter & Supernatural do not belong to me no matter how hard I wish it. So I'm just stuck messing around with them as I see fit!

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: ****Zanmitay La (The Friendship)**

**Lancaster, Pennsylvania **

**March 16, 1998 (8:45pm)**

_"Hey, Sam!"_ Harry's voice sounded through the earpiece of Sam's phone. _"How's the hunt going?"_

The youngest Winchester sighed as he sat alone on the swing set in the park across the street from the motel they were staying at. "She was a Kitsune, Harry, and I let her go."

_"Hold on." _As he swung listlessly, Sam could hear Harry excuse himself from his dad and move somewhere private. A moment later, he was back. _"Okay, Sam. Now, who was a Kitsune?"_

"This girl," Sam explained morosely. "I met her in the Library here in Lancaster."

_"Was she cute?"_ Harry asked and Sam could hear the grin in his friend's voice.

Sam laughed lightly. "Yeah, she was. But she got into it with some other guys outside the Library and I helped her out. I got tagged and she took me back to her place to get me some ice."

_"This is starting to sound like one of those movies Dean likes to rent."_

"Ha ha, very funny." Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't like that. We talked. It was just her and her mom and they moved around a bunch like we do. Never in one place for long, never any real friends. And she didn't get along with her mom, just like...

_"You and your Dad?"_ Harry offered kindly. _"She understood."_

"Yeah. And we kissed." Sam wore a soft smile but it faded quickly. "It was nice, Harry, but then her mom came home and I had to hide. She was telling Amy - that was the girl's name: Amy - that they had to leave. That a 'couple of pros in a piece-of-crap Impala' had caught up and they had to leave."

_"You guys."_

"Us guys. Her mom was the thing Dad and Dean were hunting."

_"Since you're talking to me and not missing pieces of your brain I'm going to assume she didn't find you?"_

"Not exactly," Sam admitted. "I was hiding in the closet and Amy got her mom to leave. When I went to sneak out, she was waiting for me. Hit me a couple of times and was about to kill me when Amy killed her instead. She killed her own Mom to save me, Harry!"

_"And you let her go."_

"What else was I suppose to do?" Sam demanded brokenly. "Amy hadn't hurt anyone and you know Dad wouldn't have cared. He would have just killed her without a second thought!"

_"Believe me, Sam, I know."_

"I know you do, Harry," Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "Dad and Dean haven't got back to the motel yet and I just... I had to talk to someone. You're the only one I could think of that would understand, you know?"

_"I would have done the same thing,"_ Harry admitted easily, and Sam believed him. _"Just because someone's not human doesn't make them a monster. You've got great instincts Sam, trust them."_

Sam nodded to himself, feeling better at his friend's sincere words. He was quiet for a minute, grateful when Harry just stayed on the phone without saying anything, and frowned when he saw the Impala pull into the parking lot. "What do I tell Dean and Dad, though?"

_"Your Dad, well... what he doesn't know can't hurt you or Amy. But Dean? I think you could tell him and he'd get it."_

"Yeah, Maybe." He watched his father and brother climb out of the car and Dean looked over his way. He waved at Sam, beckoning the younger brother. "They just got back, I gotta go."

_"All right. Hey, you're birthday's coming up. A week or so before, let me know where you're going to be and I'll make sure Caleb and I are in the area. We'll get together and do something. Okay?"_

Sam smiled as he realized he had something that Amy hadn't: a friend. "Sounds like a plan, Harry. I'll call you again in a couple days. Text when you and Caleb are done your Hunt."

_"You got it. Stay safe, Sam."_

"Stay safe, Harry."

**Tuscan, Arizona**

**August 23, 1999**

_"Dude, I am in love!"_

Harry laughed at Dean's wistful baritone voice and motioned his Dad to keep going while he stopped outside the Diner they were having lunch at. "You, the Impala, and the open road for five days on your own? Yeah, I can believe it."

Dean laughed. _"Nah, man. I'm in love, love! I haven't even made it out of California yet."_

"Seriously? I thought you would have put as much asphalt between you and your Dad and Sam as you could."

_"Don't remind me,"_ Dean groaned. _"Those two have been worse than ever! I don't know what's gotten Sammy's panties in a twist-"_

Harry frowned. "Ever think John could be the problem? Don't forget I talk to Sam too, Dean. I hear all about how your dad's been pushing him lately."

_"If he just shut his cakehole and did what he's suppose to-"_

"He's not you, Dean!" Harry snapped.

_"And what is that supposed to mean?!"_

With a sigh, Harry calmed himself before answering. "Just... I hate how much you guys give up for him and Hunting."

"You do it too, Harry." Dean responded, calmer now as well. "You've got the means to get out of this life; you don't have to be doing any of this."

"And you do?" Harry leaned against the side of the building, his back to the large window that framed the booth his father had sat in. He offered Caleb a reassuring smile before focussing back on the conversation. "You had an out, Dean. That scout from Louisiana State wanted you, man! With a baseball scholarship you could have gotten a degree or, hell, gone pro!"

_"I couldn't do that to Sammy,"_ Dean said quietly. _"If I left him with Dad... nah, I'm good with Hunting Harry. I'm good at it too."_

Harry smiled as he watched the traffic driving by. "Yeah, Dean, you are. But Sam, he's not like you or me. He's going to want a life besides Hunting and sooner or later you're Dad's going to make him choose."

_"I know; I just don't like it. And Sam, he pushes Dad's buttons just as much! It's like he's itching for a fight and Dad's more than happy to oblige."_

"Hence the Five-States-Five-Days road trip, that apparently hasn't even gone one state in three days?"

Dean laughed. _"Dad and Sam are finishing up a Banshee down in Orlando. It's an easy salt-n-burn and I figured even they couldn't get mad enough to kill each other in five days. It's not my fault the local wildlife in Paradise, California is worth sticking around for. And damn, Harry, if Paradise isn't the name for it!"_

_"Dean, who're you on the phone with?"_

"Is that her?" Harry smirked. "So, what's her name?"

_"Lisa,"_ Dean practically purred. _"You're on speaker, Harry. Lisa, this is my friend Harry. Harry, Lisa: she's a yoga instructor."_

_"Dean!"_

Harry laughed at the leer he heard in Dean's voice and the girl's embarrassment in hers. "Hi, Lisa. This douche-bag treating you all right?"

_"Oh, I'm treating her all kinds of all right."_ Dean oozed and Harry smirked when he heard the light smacking of a hand against bare skin.

_"Be nice!"_ Lisa admonished before addressing Harry. _"Hi, Harry; you sound like a nice guy."_

_"It's the accent!"_ Dean interrupted.

_"If Dean keeps being mean to me, would you come and keep me company?" _

Caleb knocked on the glass to gain his laughing son's attention. Harry held up one finger and started back toward the diner entrance. "Oh, Dean, I like her!"

_"Yeah, well, stay away! I still have two more days before I gotta be back in Orlando. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to show someone just how mean I can be. Stay safe, Harry_."

"Stay safe, Dean." Harry disconnected the call as he heard the playful growl and a high pitched squeal.

**Clarksdale, Mississippi**

**October 14, 2000**

_"Wizards suck ass."_

"Harry?" Sam frowned when he heard the voice on the other end of the phone and looked up at Dean, getting his older brother's attention while putting the call on speaker. "Are you drunk?"

_"I may, or may not, be a little inebriated."_

The words were definitely slurred and Dean snorted, putting down the pistol he was cleaning. "Dude, even drunk you still talk British."

_"Because I am British, Dillweed!"_

"Where'd you get the booze, Asshat?" Dean snidely responded, though he was smirking with amusement. "You're too right and proper to use a fake ID and you're still under age in this country."

_"I may, or may not, actually be in the country."_

That had both Winchesters scowling. "Is Caleb with you?" Dean demanded, easily slipping into big brother mode.

_"I'm twenty-fucking-years old! I can go out for a drink without my father!"_

"Not in another country, you can't!" Dean was fishing his own phone out of his pocket and dialing Caleb's number as soon as he had it.

"Harry, where are you? What's going on?" Sam asked anxiously.

_"Lupin decided to pay me a visit."_ Harry snarled. _"I should have ganked - ganked? Is that right Dean? - yeah, ganked the fucking wolf when I had the bloody chance!"_

"Caleb?" Dean asked into his phone quietly, ignoring the Wizard for the moment.

Sam took his phone of speaker and held it to his ear. "Harry, tell me what happened?"

_"I went out for a food run."_ Harry started slowly. _"The bastard cornered me outside the 7-11, said he wanted to talk to me."_

"Shouldn't he be in prison somewhere?" Sam asked incredulously. "He did kidnap you and hand you over to be sacrificed in some fucked up ritual."

_"Apparently, being under several compulsions and powerful magical suggestions is grounds to be found not guilty; even for a bloody werewolf! He was let go after being in treatment for the last two years. As soon as he got out, son of a bitch came looking for me."_

Dean covered the mouthpiece to his phone and whispered to Sam, "Caleb hasn't seen Harry since this morning. He's going nuts trying to find him! Where is he?"

Sam nodded. "Where'd you go, Harry? After you talked to Lupin?"

_"I just... I had to get away from him, Sam! He wasn't leaving! He said he wasn't going to until I let him apologize and I went back with him to England! He told me I had to go back; that they need me to come back; that I had a duty and responsibility to them! But I can't, Sam! I can't go back and be what they want me to be! I've family now, I can't... I'm a Hunter! I won't go back!"_

"Harry, calm down!" Sam urged through the phone. "You don't have to go back and no one is ever going to make you! Now where'd you go, Harry?"

_"I, uh, I think I apparated? I never learned how, but I did it once before when I was a kid. I - I got scared, Sam, and I didn't want to be there anymore and when he came at me I just... stopped being there."_

"Come on, man," Sam pleaded, "tell me where you are, okay? You're scaring me."

_"Sorry, Sam,"_ Harry murmured. _"I, uh, I'm not sure. Hang on, I'll ask."_

Sam looked over at his brother who wore the same worried expression Sam knew he did. "It's bad, Dean. That friend of his parents and Godfather cornered him; tried to get him to go back to England with him. Where's Caleb? Harry's going to need him."

"They were up in Butte, Montana." Dean answered before removing the hand from his phone. "Caleb? Yeah, Sam's talking to him. He's a mess, man. That Werewolf from England - Yeah, Lupin; well, he showed up and sounds like he really scared Harry."

_"Sam?"_

"Yeah, Harry, I'm still here."

_"Bartender says I'm in Cranbrook. Says he'll help me find a place if he knows someone's coming to pick me up."_

"Cranbrook," Sam told his brother who relayed it to Caleb. "Get a hotel room, Harry. Sleep it off. No one's going to find you there; you're safe."

"Caleb's leaving now," Dean informed Sam. "Six hours, tops; depending on what happens at the border."

"You hear that Harry? Caleb's coming. He'll be there in a few hours."

_"I'm not going back, Sam."_ Harry insisted.

"No one's going to make you go back," Sam assured him, "least of all your Dad. Now, do me a favor and let me talk to the Bartender for a sec, will ya?"

_"Yeah, okay."_

_"This is Lyle. You a friend of the Brit?"_

"His name's Harry," Sam said to the new voice. "And yeah, I am. Look, something - someone - real bad spooked him and he bolted before his Dad could get to him. He's on his way now, but about six hours out."

_"Don't need the details, but thanks for that. Makes a little more sense about why the guy's so jumpy every time the door opens. I got an apartment above the pub that I own. He's just about passed out at my bar now, so I'll put him up there until his Pop gets here. It's the Chattanooga Lounge on the Crowsnest Highway just south of Cranbrook. I'll be closed down by then, but if he comes round the back there's a staircase up to the apartment. I'll wait up for him."_

"Chattanooga Lounge on the Crowsnest Highway," Sam repeated so Dean could hear and pass it on to Caleb. "Thanks, Lyle. I'll let Caleb know where to find Harry and you. One more thing: someone else is looking for him too; someone we don't want finding him. Caleb will have a password: Ijit. Anyone else, call the cops."

_"Ijit, got it."_

Both calls ended a moment later and Sam and Dean sat stoically in the motel room. Dean flopped onto the edge of the bed and stared at Sam. "What the hell was that?"

**Cheyenne, Wyoming**

**June 12, 2001**

The Jeep Wrangler was brand new, or at least well taken care of. The dark grey was accented with black chrome that gleamed in the afternoon sun and had a black tinted hard top. It slowed as it approached where Sam was walking backwards along the side of the road, his thumb sticking out, and came to a stop a few yards ahead of him. The passenger side door popped open as Sam adjusted his duffle and jogged to the open door.

"Need a lift?"

Sam's face split into a wide grin. "Harry! What are-?"

"Dean called," the man said and Sam could feel his piercing gaze from even behind the dark sunglasses Harry wore. "Get in Sam."

Tossing his duffle into the back seat, Sam climbed into the vehicle and closed the door behind him. A minute later they were up to speed and cruising down the Lincoln Highway.

"Why didn't you call me yourself, Sam?" Harry asked after they'd been driving in silence for a couple minutes. There was no masking the hurt in the wizard's voice.

"What was I suppose to say, Harry?" Sam responded quietly, shaking his head. "Just call you up and be like, 'Hey, Harry, my Dad just disowned me and kicked me to the curb last night. Oh, by the way, you were right: I got in to Stanford!'"

"Yes, exactly that!" Harry yelled angrily. "God damn it, Sam! You're my best friend and you were just going to disappear without letting me know?! Do you even have your phone with you? I tried calling you after I talked to Dean but you haven't been answering."

"I tossed the phone just outside of town," Sam admitted reluctantly.

Harry was incensed. "What the hell?! Why would you do that?!"

"My Dad's gotten really good at tracking people through their phones!" Sam exclaimed, desperate for his friend to understand. "I didn't want him changing his mind and coming after me and dragging me back!"

"Oh, and what? You couldn't call me first and tell me to meet you somewhere? What were you going to do, hitch all the way to Stanford and hope you didn't get picked up by some psychotic trucker who wants to use you for his numerous roadside paedophilic fantasies?"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Sam snorted in amusement. "Dude, that's not even a word. And besides, you look more like his type than I would be."

"Is too, smart guy." Harry looked at him sideways before chuckling and relaxing in his seat. "And just because you've got giant blood running through those veins doesn't mean you're not some tasty treat to some of the wackos on these highways."

Sam laughed. "Oh god, please tell me you didn't call me a 'tasty treat'!"

The two friends shared a laugh, easing the tension that had chilled the inside of the Jeep. After a minute, Harry sobered. "God, Sam. You really had me worried. I knew you'd be on this Highway, at least until Laramie, I just didn't know if you'd get picked up or not."

The younger hunter shrugged. "I stayed off the road last night. Walked for a little while then found a spot to get some sleep. I kept perpendicular to the Highway until I was sure Dean or Dad wouldn't be coming out this way. I only got back on the road about an hour ago. You were the first person to stop."

"You should have called me, Sam." Harry shook his head.

"I would have called you when I got somewhere with a phone," Sam assured him. "Even if it was just to let you know what happened."

"No, I mean you should have called me for help damn it!" Harry was getting frustrated again and took a calming breath. "You're father's a bastard, Sam. You've got nearly three months before the fall term starts. How were you supposed to feed yourself? Shelter? You know: things to keep you alive in this god forsaken world!"

"I can take care of myself, Harry," Sam bristled. "I don't need Dad, or Dean, or you to take care of me."

"I know that Sam," Harry cajoled his friend. "But like I said: you're my best friend. I don't want to take care of you, I just want to help. And dropping what I'm doing to come and get you so you do not have to hitch your way across the country is the least I can do."

Sam smiled softly at the sentiment. "Where were you and Caleb, anyway? And where did you get the Jeep?"

"Actually, I'm on my own for this one." Harry grinned proudly. "Just a salt n' burn over in Boise, but it's my first solo hunt."

"Look who's wearing their big boy pants!" Sam teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Give me a break; I haven't been doing this gig since I was a babe in my brother's arms. And the Jeep's a new acquisition; needed it if I'm going to be doing the solo thing more often."

"Good for you, Harry," Sam said sincerely. "How'd Caleb take it?"

"Good, I think." Harry shrugged. "He's laid up at Pastor Jim's place right now."

"He okay?"

"He'll be fine. Broke his leg in a couple places and dislocated his knee when he jumped off a cliff to get away from a bear in Glacier National Park."

"What were you guys doing there?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

"I thought it was a Wendigo," Harry answered, blushing with embarrassment at Sam's laugh. "I swear Sam; I thought it was something supernatural! I would have left it to the Park Rangers otherwise!"

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, Harry." Sam said still chuckling. "You can't be right all the time."

"Yeah, well, I felt like shit for days sitting with him in the Hospital in Kalispell."

Sam immediately lost his amusement. "Come one, man; it wasn't your fault. Caleb wouldn't have taken the Hunt if he didn't think it was something as well."

"I know," Harry nodded and smiled. "Caleb told me the same thing. So did Pastor Jim."

"Well, Pastor Jim _**is**_ never wrong so you better believe him at least."

The two shared another laugh then Harry dug out his cell phone and held it out to Sam. "Call your brother. Dean's worried about you and would probably like to hear you're not some trucker's tasty treat."

Sam frowned. "Harry-"

"Don't cut him out, Sam. He's your brother, for god's sake. You don't want to talk to you Dad, fine. But Dean hasn't done anything except try to support the both of you. Don't punish him because John's being a first class prick."

Sam sighed, but nodded. "What then? Like you said, I've got almost three months before I have to be in Palo Alto for orientation and registration."

"Well, I gotta head back to Boise and take care of that ghost. Otherwise, Dad just wanted me back in Blue Earth with him and Jim for my birthday. So, I'll go do my thing while you take it easy and back me up if need be, then we'll just see where the wind takes us. You want to hunt, we'll hunt. You want to veg out with Dad and Pastor Jim, we can do that too. Hell, if you want I'll call Rocknose and we'll get the plane. Spend a couple of weeks scoping out the potential hunts of the South Pacific; Fiji, American Samoa, the French Polynesia. Whatever we do, I promise to have you in Sunny California before school starts."

"That plane was pretty sweet." Sam smiled and started dialing his brother's phone. "Sounds a hell of a lot better than being some trucker's tasty treat."

"No shit!"

**St. Louis, Missouri**

**February 14, 2003**

_"Dude, cheer me up."_

Harry smiled tightly at the woman sitting across from him. "Excuse me, one sec, Shannon. I need to take this."

_"Shit, you're on a date!"_ Dean moaned as Harry got up from his seat and started for the entrance to the noisy club.

"Kind of," Harry admitted when he stepped out into the cool night air, "but not really. It's a 'Valentine's Day Suck's' party at this club in St. Louis. Basically it's a way for single people to hook up on such a crappy holiday."

_"Hook up? You looking to score tonight, big boy?"_

Harry rolled his eyes as he made his way out into the parking lot. "Dad and I are looking for a Siren. She been snacking at this club and another across town. Dad's checking that one out, I'm looking here."

_"Need another set of eyes? Dad and I are down in Cape Girardeau. Just finished a hunt and heading out tomorrow morning."_

Harry walked over to his Jeep and leaned against the vehicle. "And that's got you bummed because..."

_"I'm not bummed!"_

"Dean, you called me and asked me to cheer you up. You're bummed. What's going on? Is it Sam?"

_"No, Sam's... I don't know how Sam is. Kid hasn't talked to me in almost five months."_

Harry sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Yeah, he hasn't been talking to me much lately either. I know he started seeing someone but that's the last I heard and that was just after New Years. I think he's trying to distance himself from Hunting and Hunters in general."

_"Apple pie,"_ Dean groused.

Harry blinked and wrinkled his nose in confusion. "What does pastry have to do with anything?"

_"Not pastry. It just means that he's gotten a taste of 'Normal'. He use to do this as a kid too after we'd stayed in a place for a while. He'd start making friends and go off on a 'Monsters-and-Hunters-don't-exist' kick."_

"Well whatever it is, it sucks when my best friend isn't talking to me." He sighed again and slumped against the car. "Thanks, Dean. Now I'm bummed. And I got to go back inside and put on a happy face so I can find a goddamn Siren!"

_"I'm sorry, Dude," _Dean sighed as well. _"I didn't mean to bring you down, but..."_

"So if it wasn't Sam, are you going to tell me why you called me?"

There was a long minute's pause before Dean answered. _"I got dumped. This afternoon."_

Harry stood up straight and was glad the other Hunter couldn't see his shocked expression. "Harsh, man! What happened?"

_"Dad and me been working this gig in Cape Girardeau and I met this girl. Been seeing her, and only her, for a few weeks now. I fell, Harry, and I fell hard."_

"Clarify: Fell as in 'The Bendiest Weekend of my Life' fell, or..."

_"Nah, man. I'm talking about 'white picket fences and babies' fell. I saw it, that life, with her Harry. So when Dad says it's time to go, I tell her."_

"That you're leaving?"

_"I told her everything. About monsters and demons and spending my life hunting the evil sons of bitches."_

Harry winced. "And she dumped you."

_"Called me nuts first, but yeah." _

Glancing at his watch, Harry made a decision. "How soon can you make it to St. Louis?"

_"Ninety minutes."_

"Call me when you get closer and I'll let you know where I'm at. John going to be okay with you taking off?"

_"Job here is done. Besides, we were talking about me going out on my own for a while now."_

Harry smirked. "Well, look who's wearing their big boy pants!"

_"Fuck you," _Dean jeered. _"Don't get eaten by the Siren before I get there."_

Harry pushed away from his Jeep and headed back toward the club. "You know me, Dean."

_"Exactly. You attract trouble worse than I do. Stay Safe, Harry."_

"See you soon."

**Lafayette, Indiana**

**October 26, 2005**

"I am not cheering you up this time." Harry answered his phone with a smirk.

Dean chuckled on the other end. _"Nah, man, this is a business call. Although we should head back to St. Louis, see if we can find those twins again."_

Harry chuckled. "You mean the two underage girls who were snuck in by their Hulk of a bouncer big brother? Or were there another set of twins I don't remember."

Dean cleared his throat. _"Right. Never mind."_

Harry smirked victoriously. "What's up, Dean. You said this was business?"

_"Yeah, uh, strange question but you and Caleb haven't heard from my Dad, have you?"_

The smirk faded into a frown. "I haven't, and Dad's on a hunt with Joshua over in Michigan. I'll give him a call later and find out for you."

_"Thanks, Harry. I appreciate it."_

"What's going on, Dean?"

_"I don't know. I'm finishing up this Voodoo thing in New Orleans while Dad was working on something in Jericho. That was two weeks ago and I haven't heard from him. Every time I call it just goes to straight to voice mail."_

"I'm not doing anything right now, just some personal research." Harry told him. "You want me to come down to Louisiana and meet up. We can go look for your Dad together if you don't hear from him by the time I get down there."

_"He's probably just busy with his Hunt. I mean, he's done this sort of thing before but, I don't know. It just feels different somehow."_

"Then I'm in New Orleans tomorrow."

_"No, I can't ask you to do that, Harry."_

"Why not?"

_"Because, I know how much you and my Dad hate each other! I can't ask you to look for him!"_

Harry sighed. "I don't hate him, Dean."

_"Dude, he held a gun to your head when you were fifteen!"_

"And I'm twenty-five now! I got over it! I just don't like the man! Besides," Harry smirked, "you tied me up and there was no happy ending. Should I hate you too?"

Dean groaned. _"God, I did not need that image! This is what I get for hanging out with you the last couple of years. I'm a bad influence on you!"_

Harry laughed for a bit before sobering. "I'm serious, Dean. If you want, I'm there tomorrow."

_"Just... talk to you Dad and see if he's heard from John. I'm stuck here for a few more days at least and if I don't hear from him by the time I'm finished... I'll figure something out."_

"All right, Dean. But call me if you change your mind."

_"I will, Harry. And thanks again."_

"Any time, Dean. Stay safe."

_"Stay safe, Harry."_

**Hastings, Nebraska**

**April 18, 2006**

The knocking at the motel door was insistent and Dean and Sam exchanged looks. "You expecting anyone?" Dean asked his brother.

Sam shook his head as they both went for the weapons they had just been packing up. Sam stood off to one side of the door while Dean rested his hand on the knob. When the younger man was ready, Dean opened the door.

And promptly hit the floor after being punched in the face.

Sam snapped around the door and held his gun aloft, only to blink in confusion and lowering it again. "Harry?!"

"You damned son of a bitch!" Harry roared, stalking into the room taking care to step over the salt line. He bodily picked up the older Winchester by the lapels of his jacket and pulled back his fist to hit him again.

Leaping forward, Sam grabbed the arm of his irate friend and pulled him off his brother. "Harry-"

"And you!" Harry snarled, spinning on the taller man. "Don't you 'Harry' me! Three years, Sam! Three years you don't talk to me! So don't you fucking start now!"

Dean's eyes were wide as the smaller Hunter wheeled on him again and he lifted his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, Harry! What's gotten into you?"

"Into me?" Harry stormed forward until he was toe to toe with Dean. "Last I heard from you, you sorry bastard, you were in New Orleans and freaking out over your Dad being missing. I don't hear from you, fine! You must have met up with him somewhere. Except you don't answer my calls and then, out of the blue, the number has been disconnected!

"And then-" Harry roared, stopping Dean when he opened his mouth to interrupt. "Then I'm watching the news and I see that Dean Winchester has been shot and killed by St. Louis Police during a home invasion! Shot and killed, Dean! You were dead! And Sam still wasn't talking to me!"

Same was pale as he listened to his former friend rage at them. "Harry, I-"

"Zip it!" Harry growled without turning to face him. "Goddamn it, Dean, you were dead. Don't you get it? No one knew any different. Not Jim, or Bobby, or Dad; none of us! You were fucking dead, Dean and none of us could find your Dad or Sam! Do you know what that was like for us? For me?"

Harry seemed to lose all steam at the admission and he turned away from the brothers. He slumped onto the edge of the bed and looked up at the pair with sorrow filled eyes. "You two were the only real friends I had for more than a decade. I thought... I guess I thought it meant as much to you as it did to me. When Joshua called me and told me he'd heard from Sam, only to find out that you were still alive, Dean, and dying..."

Neither Winchester boy knew what to say and their uncertainty showed on their face.

Harry's scowl returned and he bolted to his feet. "Obviously you're not dying now you goddamn shithead and I still didn't rate the consideration of a phone call!" He pushed past them both and was out the door as suddenly as he'd entered it. "Well, fuck you too! Both of you!"

Too stunned at what just happened, Dean and Sam could only stare at each other with horror filled eyes as they heard an engine start up and the squealing of tires on the parking lot pavement. The atmosphere was tense around them and after a moment Dean licked his lips.

"I think we screwed up."

Sam nodded. "Big time."

* * *

Episodes Referenced:

**Amy the Kitsune**: Season 7, Episode 3 _"The Girl Next Door"_

**The Bendiest Weekend**: Season 3, Episode 2 _"The Kids Are Alright"_

**Dean Dumped**: Season 1, Episode 13 _"Route 666"_

**Dean in New Orleans**: Season 1, Episode 1 _"Pilot"_

**Harry Pissed: **Season 1, Episode 12 _"Faith"_


	7. Sekou A (The Rescue)

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a lot more angsty than I normally write. At least, more than I wanted for this story. But once again, the boys aren't cooperating with the plan and they're kind of taking it their own direction. If you squint really hard (or maybe not that hard) you can see a little bit of Harry/Dean, but it's not intended in a romantic way. Really, they're just friends. Maybe. Sorta. For now. I don't know...

**Episode Referenced:** Season 1, Episode 15 - _"Shadow"_

**Disclaimer:** Not mine!

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: ****Sekou A (The Rescue)**

**Milwaukee, Wisconsin**

**June 10, 2006 (8:45pm)**

The beer was warm, having been ignored for most of the night. The books spread around the motel room covered the second bed and most every other surface. Harry was standing next to the small table, intently reading the tome he had resting on top several other books. His phone started ringing and he absently took it from his pocket and opened the cell phone.

"Yeah?"

_"Hey, Son, how's Wisconsin?"_

Harry smiled, he couldn't' help himself. Even after ten years he had to smile every time Caleb called him 'Son'. "Hey Dad. The Grand ol' Badger State is good. Rocknose was right about that bookseller. You would not believe some of the old books that hag had! If I wasn't sure she was human I wouldn't have paid what I did for them. But man, Dad, Bobby's going to go apeshit when he sees this stuff."

His father was laughing at him. _"Kinda like you are right now?"_

"I am not going apeshit," Harry huffed indignantly. "I am appreciating ancient works that deserve being appreciated."

_"Right,"_ Caleb chuckled. _"Did she have what you were looking for?"_

"And then some!" Harry responded excitedly. "How a muggle ended up with an original Aramaic text on the basis of the Killing Curse, I'll never know!"

_"So, were you right? Did it ever have another purpose?"_

"Yes, and no," the wizard answered as he continued to flip through the pages. "What I've been able to translate of the text says that the curse as it is now has been bastardized over the centuries. The author never found any written recording of the originating spell, but it does mention a cabbalistic charm in Judaic mythology that is supposed to bring healing powers. Believe it or not, the spell was created around the time of Christ and was purportedly used to latch on to demonic energy and strip it from a body."

_"Wait, you're saying the Avada Kedavra was meant to exorcise someone?"_

"Think about it!" Harry knew he was gushing, but he couldn't help it. It was such a monumental discovery and if he could find the original spell... "The AK does absolutely nothing to the body. No one knows exactly what it does except that it makes a person dead. According to this book, the literal translation from the original Aramaic is _'let the thing be destroyed'_. Tell me that don't sound like something someone would want for a demon inhabiting a loved one!"

_"Harry, this is huge!"_ Caleb exclaimed. _"If you can find that original spell-"_

Harry chuckled. "I was thinking the same thing. Can you imagine: being able to expel a demon from its host without having to torture the person to get the damned thing to leave! I just don't know where to begin looking. I think I've tapped Rocknose of everything he can find me, but I might go back to the bookseller and see where she got these texts. It's flimsy, but it's a jumping off point."

"_I'll keep my ear to the ground in case I hear of any more Aramaic texts that might have the information you're looking for. Harry, this is huge! But I did call for a reason."_

Harry reluctantly closed up the tome and started tidying up the motel room. "Sure, what's up?"

_"If I were to say I found a symbol, a curved 'Z' with a circle bisecting it, what would you tell me?"_

With a frown, Harry stopped abruptly. "I would tell you to turn on all your lights and wait until morning then get the hell out of Dodge!"

_"Yeah, that's what I thought."_ Caleb responded grimly.

"Where the hell are you, Dad, that you've come up against someone stupid enough to try controlling a Daeva?"

_"Not me,"_ the man assured his son. _"I'm still in Boulder looking for that Demon Jim heard about. I got a call this afternoon from Dean. It looks like there were a couple of killings in Chicago that got the boys' attention and he found that symbol in the blood splatter of one of the victims."_

"Shit," Harry grumbled, anger flaring up at the name. "And what, you want me to go bail them out?"

_"You're still mad at them."_

"Of course I am!" Harry snapped. "They don't give a shit about anyone else's feelings and let me - us think Dean was dead for nearly two months! Sam hadn't talked to me in three years! I think I have a right to be angry!"

"_Yeah, you do,"_ Caleb agreed. _"But I know you, Harry. You wouldn't forgive yourself if they got hurt or worse when you could have helped them. It's just not in you."_

"Fuck," Harry groaned and collapsed onto his bed, scrubbing his face with his free hand. "Why can't I hold a grudge like every other hunter out there?"

The response came with a wry chuckle. _"Oh, you can hold a grudge - or do I need to remind you about Wandell?" _Harry growled at the name and his father snorted once before continuing. _"You're just not an asshole about it. I'm not asking you to forgive them, Harry. In fact I'd love nothing more than to watch you beat the shit out of both of them. All I'm asking is for you to be nearby in case they need some help."_

The dark haired wizard sighed and sat up. "I can do that. I'll pack up here and check out. I can be in Chicago in two hours."

_"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you next week at Bobby's, all right? Stay safe."_

"Right. See you then, Dad. Stay safe."

The call disconnected and Harry heaved another frustrated sigh. He looked around at the books and frowned. With a casual wave of his hand they all closed and sorted themselves into neat piles. He shrank them with a quiet word and another wave of his hand had the now petite books floating through the room and into a single duffel.

Maybe it was time to tell his Dad his powers were growing again.

**Chicago, Illinois**

**June 11, 2006 (02:00am)**

Chicago was a big town. Trying to find two people in a city of more than two million was really asking a lot of anyone. Luckily for Harry, he knew the general area they would be. They had been investigating the strange deaths, the latest one was in a less pleasant area of the city, and once Harry had narrowed it down he was able to cast a detection spell. For some reason, he hadn't been able to get a lock on Dean and Harry didn't want to think about what that might have meant. Sam, however, he was able to track.

He found their car parked behind a large condemned building. It looked like it had been a warehouse of some kind at some point that had been in the process of being renovated into habitable lofts. It was vacant now, a lot of construction stuff still laying about the lower floors. He tried casting the locater spell again, and it indicated above him. He cast a Disillusionment Charm and kept his wand lose in his fist as he tried to find a way to the higher floors. Only an elevator shaft was accessible and from above Harry could hear faint voices.

As he climbed he strained his hearing to listen in on what was happening above.

"-your girlfriend? Is a bitch."

Harry had to smile at Dean's voice; grateful the bastard was still alive and pissed off at whoever this 'girlfriend' was.

"This, the whole thing," Sam was saying to someone in disbelief, "was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say; It was all a set up, wasn't it?"

When a female voice laughed with amusement, Harry's skin crawled and he gritted his teeth.

"And that the victims were from Lawrence?" Sam continued.

"It doesn't mean anything." The woman said and Harry could hear the smugness oozing from her tongue. "It was just to draw you in, that's all."

Dean was right: she was a bitch.

"You killed those two people for nothing!" Same exclaimed and Harry had to wonder why it surprised the youngest Winchester. In their line of work, they'd seen worse.

"Baby," the woman purred condescendingly, "I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"You trapped us," Dean interrupted her evil-villainess with a bored tone. "Good for you; it's Miller time! But why don't you kill us already?"

Halfway to the top, Harry wanted to strangle the blonde man himself. Seriously, don't piss off the psycho chick!

When she spoke again, it sounded like she wondered what he was thinking as well. "Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn't for you."

Harry stopped his ascent and held his breath. Had she discovered him? It was unlikely but, if she was the one controlling the Daevas, not entirely out of the realm of possibilities. Luckily for him, Sam figured it out.

"Dad. It's a trap for Dad."

He started climbing again. Someone laying a trap for John with his sons as bait? Now that Harry could believe. The asshole was the kind of guy to piss someone off enough to go to such extremes.

"Oh, sweetheart-"

Goddamn it Dean, don't antagonize her!

"- you're dumber than you look. Because, even if Dad was in town - which he is not - he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

Harry wouldn't be too sure about that. One thing he would give the Winchester patriarch, he was fanatically protective of his boys.

"He is pretty good," the woman admitted with a reluctant sigh, "I'll give you that. But, you see, he has one weakness.

Reaching to top of the elevator shaft, Harry braced himself against the wall and peered up over the ledge. He couldn't see Dean or the woman, but he could see Sam. The tall hunter was sitting on the floor with his back up against a concrete pillar. His hands were bound behind him and he was looking at something to his right. Dean, no doubt, who was most likely in a similar position.

"What's that?" Dean's voice came from the other side of the room, confirming Harry's theory.

As he shifted to an opening in the elevator gate, He could see Dean's arms bound together around a second pillar. He was lifting himself up out of the shaft when he caught a glimpse of the girl.

She was petite with a very short, very blonde, pixie cut. Her features were soft and elegant, all in all very attractive. But the way the words slithered from her lips showed Harry just how unattractive she really was.

"You," She was telling Dean from where she sat, straddling his thighs. "He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy."

During her evil-villainess spiel, Harry moved to hide behind some of the junk in the room. As he did, he was able to position himself to gain a better view of the captives. Neither was in too great of shape; both Winchester bleeding from various wounds that looked a hell of a lot like claw marks. The work of the Daevas, most likely.

"Well, I've got news for ya," Dean sneered at the woman. "It's going to take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him."

Harry looked around the room, looking for a way to distract the bitch so he could get his friends free. Nothing that would bring the attention to his presence and have her calling the Daevas down on him, just something that would buy him the time he needed.

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here," Blondie mocked the trapped hunter. "They're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see."

Harry aimed his wand at Sam's empty hands, invoking the incantation with barely a whisper, and was rewarded when the small silver blade appeared in Sam's palm. The hunter jerked at the sudden appearance but covered it quickly while his hands wrapped around the knife.

"Why are you doing this, Meg?" He demanded, his voice laced with irritation to mask his sudden spasm of movement. "What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with whom?"

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do," The woman, Meg, snapped suddenly angry. "Loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy. And Jess."

Sam glared at her and snarled, "Go to hell."

"Baby, I'm already there." Meg was all seductive smiles as she slid off Dean's lap and Harry took that moment to conjure an identical knife in Dean's hand. He was impressed that the hunter didn't even flinch, just flicked the blade around and began working at the ropes binding him.

Harry moved again, looking for how the bitch controlled the shadow demons. As he searched he could hear her taunting Sam.

"Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty." Her voice was low, coy, and Harry's stomach rolled with disgust. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me; changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?

Harry wanted to gag.

And apparently, so did Dead. "Get a room, you two."

"I didn't mind." Meg said huskily, ignoring Dean. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun."

When the altar came into Harry's line of sight he considered sending an _Expulso_ its way. Except if he did that she would lose control of the Daevas and, with Sam and Dean still vulnerable, he didn't like that plan. He needed to wait for the right moment.

"You want to have fun?" Sam said with an air of boredom. "Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now."

Harry cringed when he heard the clank of metal against concrete. Everything froze for an instant before Meg turned her gaze at Dean. Scowling, she got up off Sam's lap and stalked behind Dean's post. Harry cursed silently when she discovered the knife in Dean's hand and tossed it aside. When she came around to glare down at Dean, the hunter just gave as much of a shrug as his still bound hands would allow and chuckled guiltily.

Turning her back on him, she glided back over to Sam and positioned herself on his legs again. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?"

"No." Sam offered her a small smile. "No, that's because I have a knife of my own."

Before Meg could react, Sam had brought his hands around and grabbed on to her upper arms. The ropes still dangled from his wrists but that didn't stop him from slamming his forehead into the bridge of her nose. He bodily shoved her off of him, sending her sailing several feet before she came to a stop in a heap on the floor.

Seeing his chance, Harry aimed his wand at the altar. _"Expulso!"_

The black altar exploded in a shower of debris and suddenly there came an inhuman shriek from the Shadows. Human like shapes appeared out of the flickering black and descended on Meg. She screamed as unseen claws ripped in to her legs and dragged her across the floor. A second later she was sailing out the plate glass windows and falling to the street below.

Letting the Disillusionment fade, Harry walked over to the shattered window while Sam cut his brother free from his ropes. The dark haired hunter's face was grim as he was joined by the two Winchesters. Seven stories below, the blonde lay broken and unmoving. Her unseeing eyes stared back up at them.

"So," Sam said quietly. "I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I guess not. Hey, Sam?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you want to get laid," Dean's eyes were still locked on the body below, "find a girl that's not so buckets-o'-crazy, huh?"

Harry gritted his teeth and turned away from the other hunters, pushing between them as he stalked back toward the elevator shaft. "You two are unbelievable!"

It took them several minutes to get back to the main floor, anxious to get away from the building before someone called the cops on the dead body that now resided on the sidewalk. The Winchesters followed him silently back to their car and Harry kept walking to where he had parked his Jeep a couple blocks over.

The brother's shared a look and Dean jumped forward to grab hold of Harry's arm. "Okay, enough! What's your problem?"

"My problem?!" Harry shook off his hold and glared at them both. "That girl just died! It doesn't matter that she was the bad guy! She's still dead! Is a little respect too much to ask from you two? For fuck's sake, she was someone's daughter!"

"You're right!" Sam held up his hands, placating. "You're right, Harry; we shouldn't have been so callous."

Harry huffed through his nose and started walking again, only to once more be grabbed by Dean's unforgiving grip. "Come one, Dude, talk to us!"

With a tired sigh, Harry gave up trying to leave and turned back to them. "You want me to talk? All right, fine. You dropped me, Dean. After how many conversations - over how many months after Sam stopped talking to the both of us - how could you just drop me like that? Just like that, out of the blue, and just like Sam." He looked over to the youngest hunter and Sam turned his head away. Harry snorted derisively. "And now the little shit won't even look me in the eye. Nice, Sam."

"You have to admit, Harry," Dean pointed out with a wry smirk, "last time you showed up you looked about ready to end us both."

"Yeah, well, I still might." Harry snarled only to shake his head and cross his arms defensively over his chest. "What do you want, Dean? I think, by now, I've learned where I rate as far as you goddamn Winchesters are concerned."

"I want to know what you're doing here." Dean said, running a hand over his hair nervously. "We haven't seen or heard from you in weeks, and now you're here saving our asses."

"I'm here because my Dad called me," Harry explained as calmly as he could. "I came because he told me you dumbasses were going after someone controlling a Daeva. Be lucky I did else you two would still be playing bait for John."

"Thank you, Harry." Sam said quietly, still not meeting his former friend's piercing gaze. "We owe you one."

Harry quirked an eyebrow and said, "Just one, Sam?"

Dean glanced between the two, frowning. "Okay, look. We need to hash this out. But not in the middle of the street with a dead body lying on the sidewalk a block over. Follow us back to the motel, Harry. Please."

Despite the other hunter's sincerity, Harry shook his head. "If that bitch was right, and John is in town, chances are he's going to show up at your motel room in the next couple of hours if he's not there all ready. You need to deal with that."

"He's right, Dean," Sam agreed, though Harry could see the relief on the younger man's face.

"Whatever," Harry huffed and started walking away.

Dean's hand on his arm stopped him again. "Harry, please."

"No Dean," Harry said with resignation. "I'm done, all right? Just... I'm done waiting by the phone for you two to remember that we use to be friends."

The mask of indifference fell over Dean's face but, in that brief instant before he closed himself off, Harry saw the devastation in his eyes.

"I'm still a Hunter," Harry told them. "You need some information or help on a Hunt; you know how to reach me. At least you use to."

Turning away from his former friends, Harry didn't look back as he successfully walked away this time. He disappeared down an alley and kept moving when he heard the roar of the Impala shatter the stillness of the night. He tried to pretend he didn't wince when the squealing of tires signaled their departure.

Really, it was better this way. Hunting was a dangerous profession and Danny had always told him it was risky developing attachments. Whether it was you or them, sooner or later one of you was saying goodbye permanently to the other.

'Save yourself a world of hurt, kid.' Elkin's had told him once. 'Don't let people get too close.'

Walking alone back to his Jeep he tried really hard to convince himself of that.


	8. Pèt Na (The Loss)

**Author's Note:** This chapter contains the scene that the entire story was built around. It was difficult to balance the chapter with events from the episode of the show and what I wanted Harry being there to change. I like to think it came out decently and I hope you tell me if I nailed it or failed it.

**Episode Referenced:** Season 1, Episode 21 - _"Salvation"_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Supernatural are not mine. Not now, never have been, but maybe someday they will be. (yeah, right...)

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**CHAPTER EIGHT: P****èt Na (The Loss)**

**Le Mars, Iowa**

**October 30, 2006 (10:30am)**

"Where'd you leave the rock salt?"

Harry looked over the roof of the cab of the truck to where his father stood in the motel room door. "We used the last of it last night. We'll need to stop on our way out to restock your truck. I noticed you only had two rolls of gauze left and only half a flask of Holy Water."

"Right," Caleb ducked back into the room while Harry finished securing their gear in the back of his father's truck.

It had been a relatively easy hunt. Red Caps were notoriously vicious and going after one on your own was practically suicide. This was why Harry had called his Dad in for backup. It was a good thing too. The psychotic little dwarf had brought a pile of imported stones, which had once been the Red Cap's original haunt in Ireland, down on to Harry. Dazed, his blood would have been staining the beast's hat if Caleb hadn't been there to distract it. Once free of the stones, Harry had been able to summon the crimson cap and burn it with an intensified _Incendio_. It had burned hot and fast and the Red Cap along with it.

"That's the last of it," Caleb called as he closed the room door behind him, the key having been left inside. "We set to go?"

"We're good." Harry cinched the last bungee cord over the tarp covering their bags and hopped out of the truck bed. "Are you sticking around when you drop me off at Bobby's? I wanted you to take a look at that text I found in Taipei last month. The text is a dialect of Aramaic I'm not familiar with and I'd like you to check my translation.

Caleb perked up and smiled at his son eagerly. "Is it the spell?"

A wide grin spread across Harry's face and he nodded. "I think so. Bobby helped me with some of the translating, but he says you've got the better grasp of the syntax of the older dialects. What we've got so far is promising, and so very exciting! I'm almost positive on the incantation but it's the wand motions that have me conflicted.

"So, what is it?" The older man was practically bouncing on his feet.

"If I'm pronouncing it right, and Bobby says I am: Avraka Davra; let the dark be banished. It's either what I've been looking for or a ridiculously involved lighting charm."

"Now wouldn't that just suck," Caleb chuckle and smirked. "A year of research and traipsing across the globe the last six weeks, just to find an ancient version of the Lumos."

Harry snorted. "That would totally suck. So, double check my translation?"

"I could," Caleb leaned against the hood with a mischievous grin. "I don't have anything else lined up that can't wait for a couple of days. But then, you've been in and out of the country for the past two months, I've hardy seen you. What do you say we head down to New Orleans? Halloween and then the Day of the Dead down in the French Quarter is something you shouldn't miss. We're only eighteen hours out. We could be there tomorrow afternoon if we push it."

With a smile of his own, the twenty-six year old hunter mimicked his father's pose. "Are you sure you want to risk it? Halloween and me don't exactly have the best track record."

Attempting, and failing, to stifle his chuckle, Caleb shrugged. "It's not like you've got those crazed British Wizards after you again."

"Perhaps not, but you do remember last year's sinkhole beneath the cemetery in Deming, New Mexico? Or the Jikininki outside of Winnemucca the year before that? And do I really need to remind you about the Ekek in that swamp in South Carolina six years ago? I mean, come on! Seriously? They go after sleeping pregnant women! I was neither sleeping nor a pregnant woman!"

Laughing without restraint now, Caleb tucked his head into his folded arms on the hood of the truck. "Oh god, I'd forgotten about that! When you saw it's proboscis I thought you were going to shit yourself!"

Harry threw his hands up into the air and opened the passenger side door. "My own father laughs at my near death experiences!"

Trying to control himself, Caleb lifted his head and chortled a few more time. "Don't be like that, Harry! You're fine! You're alive! There're just so many of them!"

He was laughing again as Harry climbed in to the truck. "Fine, we'll go to New Orleans, but if something happens I'm blaming you!"

Slamming the door shut behind him, Harry began to chuckle himself. He had to agree with his Dad. Looking back it was funny as hell the stuff that typically happened to him on or near Halloween. Maybe in Louisiana he'd at least get to have some fun before it all went pear shaped. He watched as Caleb worked to calm himself, especially when the older hunter's phone began to ring.

"Reaves," the man answered a little breathlessly. He paused as he listened, the blood rushing from his face and his laughter stopping abruptly. "What?!"

Harry was out of the truck in an instant when he saw the sudden change in his father.

"Yeah," Caleb answered the person on the other end of the call shakily. "Uh, yeah. I can be there in a few hours. My son... Harry Potter-Reaves, that's right. He's with me... Yeah, I can tell him."

"Dad?" Harry asked in a scared whisper when he noticed Caleb's hands shaking.

He held up a hand to stall his son's questions then fisted it against the hood of the truck with his eyes squeezed shut. "I can drive. We'll - we'll meet you there."

Caleb's hand dropped the phone onto the pavement and his breathing was coming in deep ragged breaths. He bent his body in half, a low keening sound emanating from him as he began to rock back and forth. Harry stood there, shocked and afraid at his father's behavior. When Caleb let out a gut wrenching roar, Harry was bolting around the truck to his side.

"Dad!" Harry had grabbed the man by his shoulders, trying to get Caleb to look at him. "Come one Dad, what's happened? You're scaring me!"

"Jim's dead," Caleb moaned, looking up with unspilled tears pooling in his hazel eyes.

Harry felt like he'd been hit. "Wha - How?!"

"A couple hours ago, in the church. Someone slit his throat. One of his parishioners found him about an hour ago."

"Oh god-" He staggered, his knees trembling beneath him as his world began to tilt. Caleb grabbed on to him, pulling him into a tight hug to steady him. Harry latched on, his arms wrapping around his father's girth and clenching his eyes shut.

Jim had been as much family as Caleb. The kindly pastor had taken Harry under his wing from that first night a decade ago. He had been Grandfather, Uncle, Brother, Friend, Mentor; everything Harry ever needed could be found behind Pastor Jim's honest smile. And Harry had loved him.

Minutes passed slowly as father and son clung to each other; each lost in their memories and their grief. He wasn't sure how long it was before Caleb, almost reluctantly, let go and took a shaky breath in. "That - that was a clerk from the Blue Earth Sheriff's office. They're combing the church now for evidence and wanted someone to let them in to Jim's place so they wouldn't have to break in. They'll still be a few hours yet, so we have time to get there."

"Are we sure, Dad?" Harry asked almost desperately. "I mean, maybe it's a mistake."

Caleb shook his head. "People don't tend to make these kinds of mistakes. Get in the truck, Harry. I want to call a few people before we head out."

"No." Harry refused, taking his own steadying breath. "No. Let's just get going and I can make the calls while you drive. Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." The men separated, Caleb picking up his dropped phone, and got into the vehicle. As he started up the truck, Caleb started dialing. "You call Bobby; have him meet us at Jim's place. I'll get Johnny."

Harry sniffed, pressing the auto dial with trembling fingers. "Yeah, okay."

**Blue Earth, Minnesota**

**October 30, 2006 (1:30pm)**

The drive was empty as they pulled in to it, the house still and peaceful. There were no other vehicles on the street that shouldn't have been there; no police cruisers or forensic vehicles. The scene set Harry's teeth on edge as his father put the truck into park and they sat there.

"Should we have gone to the church first?" Harry asked, undoing his seat belt but not moving from the vehicle. "Bobby was going to head over there first; see if he could find out anything."

"I told the Clerk that we'd meet them here." Caleb dug out his phone and flicked through the numerous recent calls. When he found the one he wanted he pressed send and waited. A full minute passed before he shook his head and hung up. "I can't call back on the number the Clerk called from. I'll have to look up the main number. Jim should have it inside. You still got your key?"

Harry nodded and popped the door open, climbing out on steadier legs than they had a right to be. He was numb now. After retelling what little they knew to nearly a dozen different hunters had desensitized him to the reality he was facing. It didn't seem real. Jim was too strong, too good of a hunter, to be taken out so readily. They didn't even know if it was a human or beast that did the deed. Given the cause of death, Human was more likely.

Once inside the too still house, Harry faltered at the sensation of wrong that washed over him. Jim was always here when Harry came by; always greeting him warmly and with a fond hug that Harry had come to cherish. He should be there, right now, chiding Harry for not wiping his feet or forgetting to call after their Hunt was done. Or just telling Harry and Caleb how very glad he was to see his boys home again.

Caleb's hand on his shoulder grounded him and brought him back to the present. "Wait here," Caleb told him gently. "I'll just grab the phone book and we can wait in the truck."

Desperately trying to keep it together, the younger man nodded and watched his father walk into the back of the house where Jim's office was. Harry stayed by the front door, his eyes not able to focus on anything very long before a memory or thought of Jim was piercing at his heart.

Everything fled from his mind though when he heard the crash from Jim's office and his father shout:

"Harry, run!"

Cursing himself for leaving his guns in the truck, he was flexing his arm to snap his wand out of its holster when they came at him. Two large figures, one from inside the kitchen the other the living room, on either side of him lunged for him. He was able to duck under the vicious fist aimed at the side of his head but the second caught him cleanly in the kidney and had him falling to his knees.

The door slammed behind him as the two muscled goons latched on to either arm and started dragging him into the living room. He was thrashing and yelling, noticing only then that the curtains had all been drawn and the room was dim. Even in the low light he could make out the faces of his assailants and the fact that their eyes were solid black. A second, inhumanly strong, sucker punch to his kidney stole his breath with an explosion of pain in his side and he slumped in the demons' hold.

A large space had been cleared in the center of the room, the furniture having been pushed to one side. A single straight back chair had been brought in from the living room and Harry's heart started pounding at the sight of it. He was taken across the side of the room where he was forced to his knees.

Trying to regain his wind, Harry was gasping for breath as he fought against the hold of the demons behind him. The two on his arms kept a vice-like grasp on his shoulders while they twisted his wrists behind his back. They didn't make a move to bind him but their relentless grips made it impossible for him to release his wand from its holster or reach the spare on his ankle. Harry was helpless and could only watch as two more black eyed demons dragged the limp form of his father between them and into the room.

"Dad!" The young hunter shouted, trying to break free from the hands restraining him. He could see Caleb was conscious, but a bloody gash on his temple kept him dazed and listless as he was placed into the chair and ropes were wound around his wrists and torso.

Hazel eyes took a few seconds to focus, but when he got one look at his son the clarity snapped in to place and he was fighting the demons trying to secure him in place. "Let him go!"

A heavy fist reared back and struck Caleb again and the man's head snapped back from the blow. Blood flowed from his nose as his head fell forward to his chest and there was no more fight as the knots were tied.

Eyes flashing dangerously, Harry pulled against the vice-like fists on his arm with no avail. Even as he fought physically, he began pooling his magic around him. Drawing it from his core and panting with the effort he began chanting, powering his words with his magic.

_"Deus, in nómine tuo salvum me fac, et virtúte tua age causam meam!"_ The four possessed men twitched as the exorcism started, and one of the pair surrounding his father broke away and moved behind Harry. _"Deus, audi oratiónem meam; áuribus pércip_- phmph! Fvugh!"

Harry swore venomously through the thick length of cloth that was suddenly hooked between his lips and pulled tight across his face. With the third man now behind him, his arms were moved from behind his back and pulled straight out from his side. The pressure on his shoulders intensified and he growled into the gag as he head was yanked back until it was held against the demon's abdomen.

Silence descended on the room as none of the possessed men deigned to speak. Caleb was blinking rapidly, shaking his head to clear the last cobwebs from his mind, blood still dripping down his lips and chin. Harry watched his father closely; grateful for the lucidity he saw when Caleb finally lifted his head.

"You goddamn fuckers," Caleb moaned when he took in the treatment of his son.

"Such language!"

Then she walked into the room. The petite girl with a blonde pixie cut: Meg. Except, unlike in Chicago, her eyes were solid black - which explained how she was standing there and not a sidewalk pancake. She looked between the two captives, obviously please with what she saw, then focus solely on Harry. She purposefully walked toward him and suddenly he could feel the power oozing off her. It pressed down painfully on Harry's own magic, pushing it back into his core and locking it behind her twisted art.

"Wow!" She inhaled slowly as she came to a stop directly in front of him. He jerked against the restraining hands futilely when her hand rested on top of his head and combed through his hair. Her fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp, and her eyes faded to a pale blue. "I can practically taste your power; it's taking almost all I have to keep it locked down."

"Don't touch him, bitch!" Caleb snarled and wrenched at the ropes keeping him secured to the chair. The demon standing behind the chair reached around and clamped a hand over Caleb's mouth.

The woman ignored him, running her fingers a few more times over Harry's head despite his own muffled profanity spewing her way. Smiling, she crouched down so her fingers could dig into his back pocket and pull out his cell phone.

"Mind if I make a call?" She patted his face and moved to stand beside Caleb, flicking through the saved numbers on Harry's phone before dialing. She held it out on speaker as the sound of the call ringing echoed in the room.

_"Harry?"_ The voice that answered was surprised but not unpleasantly so.

"Fvahm!" Harry choked on the cloth across his mouth as it was pulled tighter and glared right back at woman when she smirked at him.

_"Harry, that you?" _The youngest Winchester's tone changed; his voice low with concern.

Meg smiled sweetly suddenly but never looked away from the captive Wizard. "Sam?"

_"Who is this?"_ Sam demanded angrily.

The She-Demon smirked. "Think real hard it will come to you."

There was a brief pause before Sam's voice snarled across the connection. _"Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."_

The frown that turned down Meg's lips was mocking. "Yeah, no thanks to you. That really hurt my feelings by the way."

_"Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."_

Meg laughed lightly. "Let me speak to your Dad."

Harry was grateful when there was no hesitation in Sam's response. _"My Dad? I don't know where my Dad is."_

The girl's eyes flashed black and there was nothing mocking about the vicious scowl she now wore. "It's time for the grownups to talk Sam. Let me speak to him, now."

There was another moment's pause before a new voice sounded. _"This is John."_

"Howdy John." Meg started pacing between the restrained father and son, her free hand clenched around a slender knife. "I'm Meg; I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood"

Harry inhaled sharply and couldn't stop himself from pulling against the hands holding him again. He growled around the gag, eyes burning with rage and suppressed power as he tried to reach for the bitch in front of him. He managed to get one arm free only for it to be grabbed and twisted forcefully until he cringed with the sharp pain in his shoulder. He looked to his father, their eyes meeting with shared grief and fear. If she killed Jim, it didn't bode well for either of them.

Meg was watching Harry with a bemused grin. "Still there John-boy?"

The pain in the other Hunter's voice was evident. _"I'm here."_

"Well, that was yesterday." The blonde pranced closer to Caleb, the tip of her knife skating across the bound man's throat. "Today I'm visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest as he tried again to break free, but the demons holding him were ready for him this time. He kept his eyes locked on his father's while the hand was lifted from the older man's mouth.

Caleb licked his lips as Meg held the phone out closer to him. "John, help Harry! Please! Whatever you do-"

Meg pressed the flat edge of the knife to Caleb's lips, shushing him with a victorious smile. There was resignation in Caleb's eyes and Harry shook his head, pleading with any god listening. Tears stung the corner of Harry's eyes as he watched his father.

_"Caleb?"_ John's voice was tight and grim. His next words were addressed to the Demon. _"You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go!"_

Rolling her eyes, Meg turned the blade and the tip of the knife nicked Caleb's lips. The magic inside Harry fought against the power restricting it while his breathing was coming in near panicking pants through his nose. His pulse roared in his ears but he could still hear the bitch talking.

"We know you have The Colt, John."

_"I don't know what you're talking about."_

The Demon's eyes bled black and she glared at the phone. "Oh, okay. Well listen to this."

Her wrist flicked quicker than Harry could see and for a moment it seemed as if nothing happened. But then the blood started flowing from Caleb's throat.

"NGGH!" Harry screamed around the gag, yanking and fighting the demons while his father choked on his own blood. Tears pooled in his eyes as he watched Caleb gasping and drowning. Magic surged through him and Meg actually stumbled as her power nearly buckled under the onslaught.

_"Caleb!"_ John's alarmed shout sounded from the phone. _"Caleb!"_

"You hear that?" Meg was panting as she ignored the dying man behind her, stalking over to Harry and focusing her energy on him. "That's the sound of your friend dying in front of his son!"

His magic burned inside him unable to strike out at the Demon. Harry was sobbing, screaming incoherently as he watched his father's eyes dim and his body still. Feeling the moment Caleb died, Harry went limp in the hands keeping him captive and his head slumped to his chest.

Meg placed a bloody hand on Harry head and ran her fingers through his hair. She trailed her nails down his face and pulled the fabric from his lips. "Now let's try this again. Say Hi, Harry."

"You bitch," he moaned as his tears dripped to the floor. Rage and grief coursing through every fiber of his being, Harry looked up with near glowing green eyes. The power radiating behind the hate with which he glared at her caused her to take a step back. He spat at her through snarling teeth, "I'll have you begging for Hell, you fucking bitch!"

She was silent a moment, unadulterated fear on her face, before she schooled her features. "We know you have the gun John; word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties."

_"I'm going to kill you,"_ John growled over the line, _"you know that?_

"Oh John please," Meg spat. "Mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing: We're going to keep doing what we're doing." She brought the knife covered in Caleb's blood up to press underneath Harry's chin, forcing his head to tilt back. "And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved; they'll all die unless you give us that gun. I'm sure I don't have to tell you whose neck is in the noose right now."

Harry's hands were fisted, his arms straining against the demons holding him on his knees. He held his glare on her face, once again pushing his magic against hers, and he could feel her faltering beneath his grief fueled stare. "Let her kill me, John! Don't give the cunt what she wants!"

Snarling, she pulled the knife back from his throat and slashed it across the side of his face. Harry hissed as he felt the blood spilling from his cheek. "I'm waiting Johnny; better answer before the buzzer!"

_"Okay."_

"John, no!" Harry shouted only to have the knife gouge across the same cheek again and the strip of fabric was once more pulled taught across his mouth.

A triumphant smile burst onto her face. "Sorry? I didn't quite get that."

_"I said okay."_ John's voice sounded defeated. _"I'll bring you the colt."_

Meg cupped Harry's face ran her thumb through the blood oozing from the pair of gashes. He winced but didn't - couldn't - fight anymore. "There's a warehouse in Lincoln," the woman told John, "On the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're going to meet me there."

_"It's going to take me about a day's drive to get there."_

Her thumb dug into the wound and Harry grunted involuntarily, the sound carrying through the phone, before biting the sound off and yanking his head away from her. Meg popped her thumb into mouth and sucked the blood from it. "Meet me there at midnight tonight."

_"That's impossible,"_ John snapped. _"I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."_

The possessed woman's face twisted into an unattractive sneer. "Oh. Well I guess Harry dies, doesn't he? If you do decide to make it, come alone."

Snapping the phone shut she tossed it aside and Harry couldn't help but watch the device as it slid across the floor, stopping when it skidded into the pool of blood surrounding Caleb's body. Clenching his eyes shut, he turned away from the grizzly sight. He was unprepared for the delicate hand that fisted in his hair and yanked his head back.

"Take a good look," Meg's breath was warm against his ear as she pried his eyes open.

Harry cursed her behind the gag and swallowed the lump in his throat as he was made to meet the cold, lifeless eyes of his father.

"John Winchester did that." Her tongue snaked out and licked the shell of his ears. He shuddered in disgust and tried to pull away from her, but barely moved. "All he had to do was agree to give me what I wanted sooner and your dear old Dad wouldn't be a steaming pile of soon to be rotting flesh. Remember that, Harry; Johnny got your Daddy killed."

She let go of him and started walking away. "Get him ready for transport."

Tears welling in his eyes, Harry looked at his father's body praying that it was all a bad dream and he would soon wake up. That Caleb and Jim were still alive and he had only fallen asleep in the truck on their way to New Orleans.

But as the blow to the back of his skull drove him into darkness, he knew it was a nightmare that would never end.


	9. Move Lespri A (The Demon)

**Author's Note: ** The first bit of the chapter mirrors the end of the previous. I did this because I wanted to show the Winchester's side of Caleb's death. Sorry if it seems repetitive.

**Episode Referenced:** Season 1, Episode 21 - _"Salvation"_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Supernatural, and the characters thereof do not belong to me. I make no profit and this story was written for enjoyment value only.

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**CHAPTER NINE: ****Move Lespri A (The Demon)**

**Salvation, Iowa**

**October 30, 2006 (1:30pm)**

The motel room was dim, even with the early afternoon light creeping through the tattered drapes. Sam sat at the table, eyes closed and rubbing at the pounding behind his temples, yet still aware of the penetrating gaze of his father boring into him.

"A vision." The tone was so flat that Sam nearly shuddered. That tone of voice from John Winchester never boded well for anyone.

"Yes." He sighed, pain filling every movement he made. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

There was a pause of silence before John spoke again." And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because..."

Sam finally opened his eyes and met his father's unreadable expression. "Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

"They started out as nightmares," Dean explained from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "Then it started happening while he was awake."

Sam watched as his brother got up from the bed and walked to the counter behind Sam. He couldn't see what the older man was doing but he knew, whatever it was, was for Sam's comfort and relief. It always was. Seeing the expression shift slightly on his Dad's face, Sam winced at what he was about to say. "Yeah, it's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get."

Another poignant pause filled the space between them and then John snapped. "All right. When were you going to tell me about this?"

Both boys looked at their father, both silently supporting the other as Dean answered. "We didn't know what it meant."

They could tell John was furious, but the man kept the anger boiling just beneath the surface. He looked past Sam and turned his gaze disapprovingly at his oldest son. "All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

"Call you?!" Sam barely contained the flinch when he heard the coffeepot and a cup suddenly slam into the counter behind him. Dean stalked past him and came toe to toe with their father. "Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence! Sam called you when I was dying! I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

Surprisingly, John was the one to take the step back. "You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

Taking the win where he could get it, Sam broke in before Dean could comment on his 'new tone'. "Look guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's going to go through the same hell we went through."

"No, they're not," John said with the utmost sincerity. "No one is, ever again."

The moment was broken when Sam's phone started to ring. He glanced at it before answering. A pleasant jolt of surprise ran through him when he saw Harry's name and number on the display. It was the first time since Chicago that the other hunter had initiated contact with either Winchester. "Harry?"

_"Fvahm!" _

The choked and muffled exclamation had the faint smile he had worn when he answered vanish in an instant. A cold ice fist wrapped itself around his stomach and started twisting. He flicked the call over to speaker when his brother and father noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. "Harry, that you?"

The voice that responded the second time was not Harry. _"Sam?"_

Sam was suddenly very angry. "Who is this?"

_"Think real hard it will come to you."_

Sharing a look with Dean his mind raced through dozens of possibilities. It was when Dean's eyes widened and he mouthed a name to his younger brother that the ice fist on his stomach moved to his heart. He inhaled sharply, knowing that if the bitch was still alive and using Harry's phone... "Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window."

_"Yeah, no thanks to you."_ She sounded like she was actually pouting. _"That really hurt my feelings by the way."_

"Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."

The woman on the other end laughed. _"Let me speak to your Dad."_

Sam glanced at John but didn't hesitate with his answer. "My Dad? I don't know where my Dad is."

_"It's time for the grownups to talk Sam."_ The way Meg spoke left no doubt with Sam that the situation was grave and was not the best idea to mess with her. _"Let me speak to him, now!"_

John took a silent step closer to the phone, apparently coming to the same conclusion as his son. "This is John."

_"Howdy John,"_ Meg greeted, suddenly pleasant and cheerful. _"I'm Meg; I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood."_

That stopped all three Winchesters and Sam watched as Dean slumped onto the edge of the bed, his hand over his mouth in disgust. John didn't look to be faring any better. Sam knew the feeling; the thought of the kindly preacher dying like that made him ill. Pushing it aside for the moment, Sam focussed on the commotion he heard in the background on the other end of the call. When it quieted, Meg was back.

Whatever had happened seemed to have amused her greatly if the tone of her voice was any indication. "Still there John-boy?"

The oldest Winchester inhaled slowly, calmingly, before answering. "I'm here." The words were thick with emotion uncommonly expressed by the typically unmoveable man.

"Well, that was yesterday," she went on amiably. "Today I'm visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi."

Sam's stomach roiled at the implications of her words and the evidence of the number on his phone. The frantic voice that shouted over the line only confirmed his fear.

_"John, help Harry! Please! Whatever you do-"_

Dean leapt from his seat and started pacing as he listened. The pounding in Sam's head was forgotten. John's face paled. The bitch had their friends.

"Caleb? The older man's voice was menacing and his teeth were gritted behind his lips as he snarled at Meg over the phone. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go!"

_"We know you have The Colt, John."_

John barely hesitated before he responded. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean and Sam stared at him with utter disbelief.

_"Oh,"_ Meg said casually. _"Okay. Well, listen to this."_

The sudden wet gasps and choking echoing in the motel room were nowhere near as chilling as the heart wrenching cry that came from the speaker of Sam's phone. All three men were horrified at what they were hearing and what they knew had happened.

"Caleb?! John shouted, and Sam could see the desperate hope that their conclusions were wrong. "Caleb!"

_"You hear that?"_ Meg demanded breathlessly over the gruesome noises. _"That's the sound of your friend dying in front of his son!"_

Dean had gone green as he listened to one friend as he died and the other screaming and crying in despair. The sounds continued for another few seconds, the choking petering out until the only sound they heard was Harry's muffled sobs.

Sam's hand was shaking and he quickly set the open phone down on the table. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it or from his father's hunched over frame as the older man clutched at the edge of the table with white-knuckled fists.

_"Now,"_ Meg's calm voice came over the line, "_let's try this again. Say hi, Harry."_

_"You bitch,"_ Harry's voice was so broken it felt as if someone had reached in and tore out Sam's heart. He and Dean shared a knowing look; knowing how they would feel if they had been forced to watch their father die so horribly. Despite that, Harry's next words had them hopeful that their friend wasn't completely broken. _"I'll have you begging for Hell, you fucking bitch!"_

Meg almost seemed to hesitate, but her voice was steady when she spoke again. _"We know you have the gun John; word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties." _

"I'm going to kill you, you know that?" John growled as he lifted his head. Sam was certain his phone would explode just from the look of loathing the older man leveled it with.

_"Oh John please,"_ the woman spat derisively, _"mind your blood pressure. So this is the thing: We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved; they'll all die unless you give us that gun. I'm sure I don't have to tell you whose neck is in the noose right now."_

Both boys snapped their heads to their father, watching him and wondering if he would try lying to her again. John was obviously thinking, and hard, when Harry's shouted _"Let her kill me, John! Don't give the cunt what she wants!"_

Sam saw the instant his father considered it and was on his feet, glaring at John with everything he had. The man stared right back at him, startled when Dean sidled up to his brother's side with the exact same expression on his face. Neither would ever forgive him if he didn't at least try to save their friend.

_"I'm waiting Johnny; better answer before the buzzer!" _

No one in the room doubted the honesty of Meg's ultimatum.

"Okay." John said, as much to Meg as to his boys.

_"John, no!"_

_"Sorry? I didn't quite get that."_ The smugness dripping from her voice belied that statement.

"I said oaky," John acquiesced defeated. "I'll bring you the colt."

_"There's a warehouse in Lincoln,"_ the woman told John, _"On the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're going to meet me there."_

"It's going to take me about a day's drive to get there," John tried.

A pain filled groan grated across their already fried nerves, the unspoken threat all too clear. _"Meet me there at midnight tonight."_

"That's impossible," John snapped, ignoring the glares directed at him by his children. "I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on the plane."

_"Oh. Well I guess Harry dies, doesn't he? If you do decide to make it, come alone!"_

The sudden dead air signalled the end of the call, though no one moved to close Sam's phone. Dean was staring at his Dad, shaking his head at the man. "You just heard her slice Caleb open and still you tried to play her?! First Jim, now Caleb... Do you _**want**_ Harry to die too?!"

"Of course not!" John snapped at his oldest son. "But I don't want to just hand over the only leverage we've got to a goddamn demon!"

"You think Meg's a demon?" Sam asked quietly, still reeling from everything that had just happened. Guilt was rapidly replacing the icy dread that had filled him during the entire call; he had been an ass to his best friend and now he might not get the chance to make it right. That did not sit well with him in the least.

"Either that, or she's possessed by one." John clarified with a shuddering sigh.

The quiet of the three uncertain hunters filled the room until Dean asked the question they were all thinking. "What do we do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln." John answered readily, already moving to gather his things from the room.

Both sons stared at him, no longer in anger but in confusion. "What?" Dean asked.

"It doesn't look like I have a choice." Their father turned and looked at them and the resolve in his face was comforting. "If I don't go, Harry dies. I've already lost two friends today, I won't lose any more."

Sam was grateful, but a nagging doubt about the decision wormed its way up through the building guilt. "Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John looked between his two boys and explained. "Look, besides us, and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like.

Sam was pleased to hear that, but Dean obviously was not. He gaped at John like he'd never seen the man before. "So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?"

"Antique store," John corrected as if it were the most obviously answer.

Dean snapped. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice? You're going to bet Harry's life that she's that stupid?! She will kill him Dad!"

"I know that!" John roared. "I know that, and I honestly don't want that and I will try my damnedest to see that it doesn't happen. So long as it's close she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean pressed furiously. "What happens to Harry when she finds out?"

"What do you want me to do, Dean?" John demanded. "Just hand the real colt over to her?"

"Yes!" Dean bellowed, surprising Sam and stunning John into silence.

Sam stepped toward his irate brother. "Dean-"

"No, Sam," Dean shook his head. "Dad gambled once today and it cost Harry Caleb. Harry had to watch his father choke and drown on his own blood and could do nothing to stop it. We've fucked up enough with Harry; I won't do it again."

"This is The Demon," Sam practically pleaded, desperate to ignore the guilt now churning in his gut. "Dean, this is what we've been hunting for our entire lives! It killed Mom! It killed Jess-"

"But killing it won't bring them back," Dean countered easily, "will it? We don't even know for sure that it will work on the goddamn thing. But it will get Harry back."

And honestly, Sam couldn't argue with that. As much as he wanted to avenge Jess' death he had moved past it. He couldn't do anything about it, and there would be other ways to get at the demon. However... "But what about Monica and her family? We can't just leave them to the demon."

"I only need to buy a few hours," John finally said, "that's all."

"You mean for Sam and me," Dean frowned. "You want us to stay here and kill the demon by ourselves?"

"No, Dean," John shook his head. "I want to stop losing the people we love. I want Sam to go to school; I want you to have a home; I want you both to have friends. I want... I want Mary alive. I just want this be over."

He started packing up his gear again. "I promise you both: I won't let her kill him."

**Lincoln, Nebraska**

**October 30, 2006 (11:00pm)**

It was hard not to lose himself inside the grief. Memories of Jim and Caleb were flooding his thoughts and he couldn't shake the heartache every time he thought of the two most important people in his life. He wanted to crumble, to give in to the overwhelming pain and loss that was a thousand times worse than when he lost Sirius and Hermione. He wanted to cry and scream and, God help him, he wanted to die!

But, for the same reasons he didn't step off the astronomy tower all those years ago, he couldn't bring himself to give in.

Harry huffed through his nose and shifted in his bindings. His back was pressed uncomfortably against a large pipe running parallel with the wall. A rope, looped between the small links of chain between the handcuffs tight around his wrists, stretched his arms above his head and was secured to the narrower pipes running along the ceiling. Several strips of heavy-duty tape sealed his lips.

He had woken as he was being manhandled into this position, his hands already cuffed and his mouth gagged. He had kicked and struggled but, with Meg's demonic powers still trapping his own magic inside his core, the fight had been short lived. The bitch had just sat in a folding chair not too far from him, watching him with unrestrained amusement as he was imprisoned. Once he was in place, the other demons left the area leaving him and Meg alone. He had continued to struggle, much to her entertainment, and tried to work free of his restraints. But, when the blood had tricked down his arms from the now open wounds on his wrists, he stopped.

That had been hours ago and still she had yet to say anything to him. He had tried glaring at her but she only smirked back. He had tried wrestling his powers against hers but while he had been unconscious she had successfully dug her claws in and he could not shake her oppressing strength. So he had closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it against the thick pipe behind him and tried not to give in to the grief coiling just beneath the surface.

"So this is him?"

A new voice and presence had him opening his eyes and staring at the man that joined them. He was an older man, late fifties at least, with heavy laugh lines and short graying hair. His skin was pale, with a cleft in his chin, but it was the gleaming yellow eyes that had Harry bucking in his restraints when the man drew nearer.

Meg got up from her chair, a pleased smile on her lips as she stood behind the Winchester's yellow-eyed demon. "So it would seem. It's gotten a little easier, but it's still taking most of my concentration to keep him subdued."

Harry stiffened when the man stopped right in front of him, flinching when a heavy hand ghosted over his head and down the side of his face. He cursed Yellow-Eyes as he tried to move away from the touch, but the tape successfully muffled his colorful protests.

The thing's eyes were closed and it was inhaling deeply. "Xezbeth actually did it," he exhaled in amazement, stroking Harry's head like one might a pet. "He's so strong! I can feel it even with you holding him back! This- This is what I have been striving for!"

"He's disgustingly pure though, for a Cambion." A second man stepped in to the dim lighting, startling Harry as he hadn't seen him hiding there. This man was tall, younger, muscled and dark haired. His solid black eyes were sneering down at Harry as the new demon stopped beside Meg.

"He's not a true Cambion," Yellow-Eyes pointed out without turning away from Harry. "Xezbeth's blood called forth the demon blood that lay dormant for millennia. He's still mostly human, but the power he wields! It's intoxicating. It's what Xezbeth was learning when he targeted the Wizards. The way they use their powers, the things they can do; no demon's magic has been able to match its precision and versatility."

Yellow-Eyes' pulled Harry's sleeve down his arm, exposing the wand and holster strapped to his forearm. Fingers ran over the slender piece of wood and the Demon hissed when its fingers blistered, pulling them back quickly.

"We can't touch it," Meg informed the thing, showing her own fingers that were slowly healing. "Whatever it's made from, that one and the one on his leg, no one can remove either of them. It's why I'm keeping him locked down."

Harry glared at the trio of demons with satisfaction. It was no wonder they couldn't stand the touch of the wood infused with phoenix feathers. Even if he couldn't tap into his magic to use them, it was reassuring to feel the wands against his skin.

"It would be such a waste to kill him," Yellow-Eyes said with a frown.

"Can we ride him?" Meg asked eagerly.

Oh hell no! Harry's eyes went wide as he understood they were talking about possessing him. His fight began anew, the scabbed over abrasions under the cuffs breaking open as he pulled futilely against them. His eyes narrowed and he cursed the other man when he looked intrigued and drew closer, the black eyes swirling as the demon inside prepared to jump hosts.

"Not this one, Tom." Surprisingly, he was saved by Yellow-Eyes. "It was tried eons ago and maybe now, with the demon blood diluted, it may be possible with a different Wizard. But Xezbeth has marked this one. You would burn up before you could sink your teeth into him."

"A shame," the other demon - Tom - said with visible disappointment. His black eyes solidified once more as they roamed up and down Harry's struggling body. "It might have been fun riding him back to those Winchester shits. So are we going to kill him then?"

Yellow-Eyes chuckled and actually shook his head. "As far as Johnny is concerned, the Wizard will die whether he gives us what we want or not. I doubt the man will, however. He's been hunting for the Colt ever since he heard of it. He won't give it up; especially for someone as tainted as our Harry here."

Harry glared at the demonic trio, a muffled 'fuck you' snarling through the tape much to their amusement. It was Meg who asked, "So if we can't kill him, and we can't ride him, what do we do with him?"

"There may be ways to control his powers," Yellow-Eyes admitted as he finally tore himself away from Harry and turned to the other two. They walked away from him and he relaxed a little, though with Meg's power still trapping his core it was hard to do so completely. "We'll hold on to him for now; keep him well guarded and restrained. I need to find out a few things first. It's a shame Xezbeth is back in the pit, he would have known what I needed. Still," he looked back at the helpless Harry with an excited smile, "he may be more ideal than any of the other children! He's stronger, well trained, a far better General than any of them could hope to be - except for maybe Sam. If we didn't need the Colt and I hadn't invested so much time and energy cultivating the Winchester boy, I'd almost say 'Fuck it!' and use the Wizard."

The yellow eyes watched him for a moment longer before the demon actually sighed and turned away. "Ah well. It's almost time; I've got to go."

Staring defiantly, Harry watched it go but the other two remained. Tom turned his full attention to their bound captive and approached him. When he got close enough, Harry kicked out with one of his free legs but the strike was easily missed. Suddenly, Tom was pressed right up against Harry; his hand wrapped tightly around the struggling man's throat and forcing his head back to look the taller demon in the eyes.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Meg asked with a bored air as she retook her spot on the chair.

"What's it like?" Tom tightened his grip, stifling Harry's breathing, and tilted his head down until his nose was nuzzling the spot right behind Harry's ear. "Touching that kind of power inside a pathetic little human."

Harry gritted his teeth and closed his eyes when the demon began practically rubbing his face up and down the side of his neck. He choked as the lack of air became painful and he felt his magic flaring under Meg's control.

"I don't think he's so pathetic!" The girl gasped, drawing Tom's attention away from the Wizard as she rocked in her chair. Her eyes flashed between blue and black and Harry felt the pressure of her power forcing his own to submit again. "You should have felt him after I slit his dear old dad open." Harry cringed at the image that flashed across his memory and his magic buckled.

Meg was panting for breath as she righted herself in the chair. She chuckled. "It's intense. He's almost shaken me a couple of times and even now it's a fight to keep him pinned down. He could be a god among men, and yet he languishes in obscurity. Father's right: if we can control this, there will be no stopping us. Now let him go, he's turning blue."

Tom looked back at Harry and reluctantly stepped back, taking his hand away from Harry's throat. Drawing in what little breath he could through his nose, Harry tried to refill his lungs. Tom regarded him briefly before turning away. "Should you ever need a break, dear sister-"

"You'll be the first to know." The pair was distracted by the entrance of another demon. The thing leaned down and whispered something in Meg's ear who smiled and got from up from her seat. "Winchester's here." She shared an eager smile with Tom before moving toward Harry. She placed a slender hand on his head and caressed his hair once. "Be a good boy while I'm gone, Baby."

His head suddenly slammed into the thick pipe behind him and stars exploded in his vision. He felt his body go lax and the cuff dig into his bloodied wrists as he slumped in his bindings. Unconsciousness encroached on him once more and he embraced it welcomingly.

oOOooOOooOOooOOo

John moved quickly through the warehouse, cognizant of the screams and yells coming from the demons scrambling to get out. At first he had thought to bless the water in the tower, plan an escape route where he could flush the Holy water into the underground passages. But then he saw the water tanks for the fire suppression system and realized being able to move about and find Harry was the key to saving Caleb's son.

When the exchanged went sour, as he knew it would, he had bolted and set off the smoke bomb he had rigged beneath the fire alarm. In less than a second the sprinkles turned on and the entire building was being drenched in holy water.

It was a strange feeling, rushing through a demon infested building to find the Wizard. Even after planning and executing the operation a decade ago to protect Harry from the English magic users, John had made it a point to avoid the Reaves' as much as possible. He'd only agreed to help with that situation because he owed it to Harry for what he did for Dean. But over the years, watching Dean and Harry grow closer even as Sam pulled away from them both, seeing the man Harry had become and what his magic could do, John had found his indifference to the boy became more a habit that his true feeling.

When he heard Caleb pleading for John to save his son, only to have to listen to the boy screaming as the demon bitch killed his father, the last of John's reticence about Harry had faded. He could not, in good conscious, let the man die. Not when John had a chance to save him.

The sounds of pain coming from the demons faded the further he moved into the warehouse and he could only hope he was moving in the right direction. The shower of water would not last much longer but the standing water covering the floor would hopefully buy him the time he needed to get him and Harry, no matter the younger hunter's condition, out.

A low pitched moan drew John's attention down a darkened hall and to another large open space with dozens of pipes running along the walls and ceiling. The sprinklers sputtered as the water finally ran out just as John saw the figure writhing in the puddles that had collected on the concrete floor. The smoldering body lay a few feet from a second body hanging limply by its arms tied to the pipes in the ceiling.

"Harry!" John bolted to Harry's side, ignoring the demon on the floor, and quickly pressed his fingers into the unconscious hunter's pulse point on his throat. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady, if weak, beat of the other man's heart and readily began assessing the damage done to his boys' friend.

Blood, both dried and fresh, had been washed from various spots on his body and his feet resided in a puddle of blood tinted water. His arms were streaked with pale pink water and John could see the blood still seeping from beneath the cuffs that cut viciously into the skin of his wrists. Two ragged gashes on his cheek were oozing blood through thick scabs, indicating the wounds were several hours old but irritated by the high pressure water that had fallen. There were no burns to his skin which alleviated John's fear that the boy could have been possessed during his captivity. There was a nasty lump at the back of Harry's head and John's hand came away wet with blood and water when he checked it. However, the man had reacted to the touch and shifted his head, moaning against the tape gagging his mouth.

"Harry?" John called quietly. He wrapped an arm around the rousing man's waist, taking some of the weight off the damaged wrists, and went to work on the rope suspending him with a knife from John's boot. "Come on, kid."

Green eyes flickered open and John could feel the muscles of the man's leg's trying to get beneath him again. They gave out barely a second later and the body went slack again.

"Shit," John cursed as he sawed the knife through the last strands of the rope. The arms dropped for the first time in god knew how long but there was no response from Harry. Not taking the time to uncuff the unconscious man, John lifted Harry into a fireman's carry and moved as quickly as he could back the way he came.

He tried not to think about what it meant when he didn't come across anyone; no demons, no bodies, nothing barred his was as his found an exit and stepped out into the night air. It was crisp against his wet clothes but it slow him down. He just hoped it didn't exacerbate Harry's condition. It only took him a few minutes to weave his way through the dark between the different buildings to where he had hidden his truck.

Seeing all four tires slashed was not a promising sight.

Barely pausing, John opened the gate to the truck bed and shifted Harry's body off his shoulder and into the back. He hopped up and shifted Harry around so his unconscious frame was hidden among his supplies. He didn't bother removing the cuffs from Caleb's son's wrists but he did gingerly pry the tape from Harry's mouth.

Lifting his spare phone from his gear, he quickly sent off a text with coordinates to Dean's phone. He then tucked it between Harry's hands and ran a hand over dark damp hair. "Look out for my boys, Harry."

John pulled a heavy canvas tarp over the injured hunter and secured it in place, ensuring there were enough airways to keep Harry from suffocating. Climbing out of the truck he inspected his work and, once satisfied that Harry was well hidden, started running.

**Lincoln, Nebraska**

**October 31, 2006 (05:30am)**

"Thanks, Bobby. We'll let you know if we find anything."

Dean looked up from the city map spread out over the hood of the Impala. Sam shut his phone as he walked back and Dean watched as Sam reared back and threw the phone through the open door of the car. "FUCK!"

That did not bode well for the answer when Dean asked, "What'd he say?"

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the top of the car and burying his face momentarily in his palms. When he looked at his brother he was calmer but no less angry. "He's still in Minnesota but is heading out in about an hour. The cops were suspecting a vagrant killed Pastor Jim, and Bobby's confident he'll be able to get his body released to him in a day or two. He's listed as next of Kin and in Jim's will it states he wants to be cremated before being interred."

"But Caleb and Harry were notified before Bobby," Dean scowled. "And you said 'were suspecting'."

"No one from the Sheriff's office called anyone," Sam informed him. "That led Bobby and the Sheriff over to Jim's place where they found Caleb's truck in the drive and his body tied to a chair inside Jim's living room. Bobby told them about Harry and now they've got a BOLO for him."

Dean frowned. "They don't think he had anything to do with their murders, do they?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Caleb and Harry were well known around town, so it wasn't hard for Bobby to convince them that Harry was in trouble. According to Bobby they're treating Harry's disappearance as a kidnapping and now the Feds are getting involved."

"Whoever called Caleb set him and Harry up. Meg or one of her flunkies. She may have been able to take Jim out on his own if she caught him by surprise, but Caleb and Harry? She couldn't have done that by herself."

"Looks that way," Sam agreed.

"Yeah, and we knew all of that, or at least suspected." Dean grunted, having hoped the grizzled hunter had heard from Harry. Or their Dad. Even after Meg had answered their Dad's phone he'd been hoping that she'd been bluffing. She hadn't said anything about Harry and the oldest Winchester son refused to believe their friend was dead. There was a chance they'd both escaped and the bitch was just playing with Dean and Sam. But the longer they went without contact from either one...

"We stick to the plan, then." He jabbed a finger at a spot on the map. "This is the warehouse that bitch wanted to make the exchange at. Dad would have got there early to scope out the area."

"And the coordinated Dad sent you brought us here." Sam walked over to stand beside his brother, pointing his finger at the alley they were parked in. "Three blocks between here and there."

"So whatever he wanted us to find will be around here somewhere." Dean folded up the map while Sam reached into the car and retrieved his phone. Once the Impala was locked up the brothers headed out. They hadn't gone far when they saw the side alley partially blocked by a large red construction dumpster. Down the alley they found John's truck.

Seeing the state of the tires, Dean cursed and kicked the torn up rubber in anger. "Goddamn it!"

Sam was looking through the windows as the doors were still locked "None of his stuff is missing. Do you think he made it back here?"

"They made sure it didn't matter either way," Dean huffed. He climbed into the back of the truck with the intent of searching the items beneath the tarp. "He wouldn't have sent us those coordinates if there wasn't - Shit! Harry!"

While he expected a number of things, he had not anticipated finding the unconscious and bloody body of his friend. He was vaguely aware of Sam opening the tailgate but focused on checking the injured man's vitals. "Fuck, he's cold," He hissed. "But the pulse is there, breathing's good. He's got one hell of a lump on the back of his head though. Goddamn! His wrists..."

"Dad must have hidden him here," Sam said quietly as he watched Dean delicately picked the locks of the blood stained cuffs digging into Harry's savaged wrists.

"Then lured them away from the truck, letting himself get snatched."

When the first cuff opened, Dean gently pried it opened and pulled it way from the wounds. All the while, Sam watched Harry's face for any kind of reaction. Seeing none, the young hunter frowned." He's unresponsive, Dean; he needs a hospital."

"No hospital," Dean muttered as he went to work on the second cuff. "Harry's magic reacts badly with normal treatments. They'd more likely kill him than help him." The skin on the other wrist was just as bad as the first and Dean tossed the bloody restraints aside in disgust before fishing through his Dad's gear for the first aid kit. "Caleb hasn't - hadn't taken Harry to a hospital in over two years. Not since he flatlined after being given a local anesthetic for some stitches."

Sam blanched. "I didn't know that happened."

Sparing him a quick glance, Dean shrugged and went back to work treating their friend. "It was a while ago. We'll take him to Bobby's; the old man will know how to help him."

"You mean when I wasn't talking to you both." Sighing, Sam hopped out of the truck. "I'll go get the Impala so we don't have to move him too far."

Dean didn't comment or stop in his work. He was taping a thick pad of gauze over the gashes on the younger man's face when his eyes caught a flash of gold around Harry's neck. The pendant the wizard wore had shifted and clinked against the metal of the truck bed. He fingered the little golden face and narrowed his eyes in confusion. The pendant was identical to the one Dean wore; the one Sammy had gotten him for Christmas one year when they were kids. In all the years since, he'd never seen the image again or any reference to it, despite Sam's insistence it was for protection. Hearing the Impala nearing, Dean tucked the necklace back beneath Harry's shirt.

"Bobby will be waiting for us," Sam said when he climbed out of the driver's seat.

"Good. Let's get the hell out of here."


	10. Fen Nan (The End)

**Author's Note: ** Sorry it took so long to get this updated. It was harder to write this chapter than I thought. Thanks to everyone for your patients and for staying with me.

**Episode Referenced:** Season 1, Episode 22 - _"Devil's Trap"_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Supernatural, and the characters thereof do not belong to me. I make no profit and this story was written for enjoyment value only.

* * *

**CHAPTER Ten: ****Fen Nan (The End)**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**October 31, 2006 (12:00pm)**

Bobby had been relieved when they had shown up with Harry, but one look at the still unconscious man had the old hunter cursing a blue streak that surprised even them. Once inside the house, with Harry set up in the spare bedroom, Bobby had set about cleaning and dressing the injuries. Sam and Dean had left him to it, knowing that Bobby had always been closer to Caleb and his son than the Winchesters. They knew he needed the time with Harry. They were waiting patiently in his kitchen when he came out, grim but calmer, and went straight for the fridge.

"How is he?" Dean asked as he watched the older man grab and open a beer.

"He'll live." Bobby looked at the brothers with an angry frown before downing nearly half the bottle. "Though it's a near thing. Without a hospital scan I can't know for certain, but it looks like he has a possible skull fracture and one kidney was ruptured. If his body hadn't put him into a healing coma he'd have bled out internally before anyone found him. I was able to get a couple of his healing potions in to him and his magic is working on knitting him back together. I'd wager he's been under a long time, but he's still got a couple hours to go before he wakes up."

"And you're sure we can't take him to the hospital?" Sam questioned.

"Not unless you want to kill him," Bobby growled. He put aside the bottle and crossed his arms over his chest, all but glaring at the boys. "So. Would you care to explain to me why I had to find Caleb's body and figure out Harry'd been taken by a bunch of goddamn demons without so much as a heads up from any of you Winchesters?"

Both young men blanched but Bobby didn't give them a chance to respond.

"Now you see here, ya ijits," Bobby snarled. "You Winchesters have always had issues with other people getting into your business. That's fair. What ain't is what you're doing to the people who care about you. Not calling, not asking for help, not taking it when its offered, running off to god knows where doing god knows what-"

"We didn't want anyone else hurt!" Dean snapped, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "When Dad went off the grid in Jericho it was because he had a lead on the thing that killed Mom. The Demon is not your run of the mill demon, we've always known that, and look what happened to Jess! To Jim and Caleb! Anyone who gets close to us is just a target for the goddamn thing!"

"Leaving us in the dark," Bobby roared back, "doesn't make us any less of a target! Look at what you've done to that damn kid in lying in a coma in my spare room! You disappeared on him, Dean! That boy has stuck to you two jackasses through thick and thin and the minute you think he's a liability you cut him out! Goddamn it; you two were family to Harry!"

"We never meant to hurt him, Bobby." Sam leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at his feet uncomfortably.

"You Winchesters never do," Bobby huffed. "Dean, Harry may forgive someday; but you Sam? You don't have the luxury of using that Demon of yours as an excuse. You abandoned him and Dean. You were ashamed of your past and family and it was easier to pretend the rest of us didn't exist in your idea of a normal life. Well, guess what Sammy boy; your normal life got your girl killed because you weren't watching your back like you were raised. Your normal life cost you the friendship of the only other person, beside your brother, who could understand how you grew up and what you'd been through. "

"That's not fair, Bobby," Dean growled protectively.

"No, it ain't," Bobby agreed. "But, you can't tell me he was prepared. He dropped the ball, Dean."

"You're right," Sam acknowledged. "A few protection circles, salt on the windows and doors, any number of small things that could have been explained to Jess as religious beliefs - and she would have gone with it - could have kept her alive. I've accepted that her death isn't my fault, but I sure as hell didn't prevent it either."

"Well bully for you," Bobby snapped. "But that means nothing right now. Right now the shit's hit the fan. Your business is no longer yours alone. Jim and Caleb have paid for it with their lives and it cost Harry the only family he's known. Now, this is some serious crap you boys have stepped in. Normal year I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops. This year I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I'm saying? More and more demons are walking among us - a lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam asked uneasily.

The older man shook his head. "No, but I know it's something big. The storm's coming and you boys, your Daddy, you are smack in the middle of it and taking the rest of us with you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the barking of a dog outside and Bobby quickly got up and bolted from the kitchen. Sam and Dean followed him and found him in the living room looking out the window. A moment later, the barking stopped with a pitiful whine and Bobby was cursing softly. "Something's wrong."

The three men had no chance to move before the front door was exploding inward. The petite blonde that entered as if she owned the place had Dean reaching for the flask of holy water in his pocket.

Meg observed the hunters with a frown. "No more crap, okay?"

Ever the impulsive one, Dean lunged for the girl while unscrewing the flask. Meg was ready for him and, with a vicious backhand and her demon strength, sent him flying across the room and into a large stack of books. He didn't get back up. Torn between checking on his brother and attacking her himself, Sam placed himself in front of Bobby.

"I want the Colt, Sam!" The lithe woman glowered at the hunter. "The real Colt! Right now!"

Bobby took several steps back, Sam moving to keep himself between the older man and possessed woman. "We don't have it on us." He stalled, even as she followed him and Bobby while they continued to back away. "We buried it."

"Didn't I say, 'No more crap'?" She huffed, stalking after them. "I swear, after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you I'm a little underwhelmed! Witch Boy and his Daddy were more of a challenge before I introduced their outsides to their insides! First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

"Actually, we were counting on it."

Meg spun around, meeting Dean's smug lit eyes with a confused frown. He smirked at her then looked up at the ceiling. As if unable to help it, the demon looked up as well. Scrawled directly over her head was a heptagram composed of two pentacles.

"Gotcha."

oOOooOOooOOooOOo

He didn't want to wake up.

The pain was there, clawing and digging into him even through the black of nothingness. The hurt wasn't the only thing drawing him back; shouting and screaming and chanting. The black gave way to grey and his body twitched as he returned to his senses. The pain was fading, a pleasant numbness erasing everything but the gnawing ache in his heart and soul. That pain, he knew, would never fade.

Opening green eyes, Harry stared up at the familiar ceiling of Bobby's spare room. The last thing he remembered was the demons saying John had shown up for the exchange. He knew Yellow-Eyes and the rest wouldn't have let him go, even if John had given them what they wanted, but he had no idea what happened after that bitch had knocked him out.

Through the closed door he could hear Sam's voice chanting the familiar Latin phrases of an exorcism. Pushing back the blankets covering him, his chest bare and dressed in a faded pair of sweats he'd left at Bobby's place, he tentatively set his feet on the rough carpeted floor. The world tilted and he felt a throbbing pain at the base of his skull. He breathed in harshly between his lips as he fought the nausea he recognized as a symptom of a concussion. After a few seconds it was already passing and he was vaguely aware of the aftertaste of several potions on his tongue.

When he was able to see clearly again, he saw both his wands on the bedside table and scooped up the holly wand before rising to his feet. He was shaky on his legs but a few steps toward the door had him steadying. He opened it quietly before making his way down the small hall, all the while listening to what was going on. Sam's chanting had stopped.

"Where is he?!" Dean's voice thundered through the house.

"Dead!"

Harry faltered and pressed his hand against the wall at the sound of the bitch's voice. It was pained and strained and Harry wanted nothing more than to be the one causing her that pain.

"No, he's not! He can't be!" Dean yelled. "What are you looking at? Keep reading!"

The chanting started again accompanied by a whine from Meg. It went on for a few seconds and Harry started forward again when Meg screamed, "He will be!"

"Wait!" Dean snapped and the incantation stopped. "What?"

"He's not dead," Meg moaned, "but he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't."

"Sam!"

"A building!" Meg's panicked exclamation interrupted Sam before he could resume the exorcism. "Okay? In Jefferson City."

"Missouri?" Dean clarified. "Where? An Address!"

"I don't know!"

Harry finally made it to the end of the hall and could just see into the living room from where he stood. He was able to see Sam standing there with a book in his hands, looking into the room and the scene taking place there.

"And the Demon?" Sam inquired gravely. "The one we're looking for, where is it?"

"I don't know! I swear, that's everything; that's all I know."

"Finish it." Dean growled.

"What? I told you the truth!"

"I don't care!" Dean responded.

"You son of a bitch!" Meg screamed. "You promised!"

"I lied! Sam?" Dean's remark had Harry smiling a little only to lose it when the younger hunter didn't begin reading. "Sam! Read!"

Sam hesitated and his voice was low when he spoke, but Harry was close enough to hear. "Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the Demon is."

"She doesn't know." Dean's response was just as quiet, but he was standing next to his brother now so Harry heard that too.

"She lied."

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there!" Dean's words resonated inside Harry and the dark haired hunter frowned. "We've got to help her."

"You're going to kill her," Bobby's voice snarled inside the room. "You said she fell from a building. That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl is going to die."

The old man was right. Meg Masters was a dead girl walking, and Harry was pleased when Dean's voice echoed his own thoughts.

"Listen to me, both of you: we are not going to leave her like that."

Harry bit back a grunt of pain as he suddenly moved again, jerking across the entrance and toward the living room.

"She is a human being," Bobby tried one last time.

"And you're going to put her out her misery," Harry told them as he leaned his weary body against the entrance frame.

The three men looked at him in surprise, none of them having heard him approaching. The demon tied to the chair, trapped beneath an impressive looking devil's trap, stared at him with fear burning in her eyes. He could feel her magic reaching out for his but it stopped short, held at bay by the power of the devil's trap.

"Sam," Dean said with eerie calm, "finish it."

Taking a deep breath, the tallest hunter turned back to the possessed girl and resumed chanting. The men watched as the girl thrashed around in her bindings and Harry didn't resist the surge or satisfaction he got her head snapped back and she screamed as the demonic entity was spewed out of her mouth. The thick, black cloud churned within the confines of the ceiling trap while Sam finished the exorcism. When he was done, the demon was gone; banished back to hell.

Meg's body went limp in the chair and blood flowed past her lips and dripped onto her lap. The silence of the room was oppressive and they were all startled when the girl's head lifted slowly with a sharp groan of pain.

"She's still alive!" Dean was the first to rush forward, sliding in to the devil's trap without a second thought. "Bobby, call 9-1-1; get some water and blankets."

Harry stood there, conflicting emotions broiling under his skin as he watched Bobby bolt for the kitchen and the brother's working to untie her. They were comforting her, trying to keep her calm, and when they lifted her from the chair Harry could hear her bones grinding against one another. Her scream, so alike and yet so different from the one the demon made, had Harry pushing away from the wall.

"Move!" Harry demanded, pushing weakly against Dean to kneel beside the dying girl.

Dean's eyes were wide as he realized what the wizard intended. "Harry-"

"Shut-up," he snapped and held the wand with trembling hand over the blonde. It was a struggle, at first, to pull his magic away from healing his own injuries and to focus it on the girl. He could hear her gasping for each breath as she talked to the brothers.

"A year... It's been... a year."

"Shhh," Sam told her and Harry could see the younger man holding on to her hand. "Just take it easy."

"Shut-up, all of you!" Harry snarled before falling into the magic.

Her body was so broken. Nearly every bone was fractured; organs punctured and torn apart; a gunshot to her chest; that she was still breathing was a miracle. In his peripheral vision he could see the Reaper encroaching on them both.

_"Don't..."_ Meg's voice sounded in his mind as his magic fought to pull her back together. _"I killed him..."_

Harry swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. _"Do you want to die..."_

_"I was awake... for some of it... I couldn't move my own body... The things I did... it's a nightmare..."_

_"It wasn't you... "_

Minutes or hours, Harry couldn't tell how long passed. His body felt weak, the potions Bobby had fed him hadn't long to work, and his magic fought against the instinctual need to heal him first. But Harry was nothing, if not stubborn, and he kept his power flowing into the woman who had been a prisoner of evil for so long.

When he finally withdrew, his body was shaking and his vision fading. He felt strong arms grab hold of him when he pitched to the side, keeping him upright even as the wand fell from his hand. He heard voices calling his name but he didn't respond. He just let the black take him again.

oOOooOOooOOooOOo

_"You with me, Kiddo?"_

_Harry opened his eyes sooner and with greater ease than he expected. All around him was white but he could make out the view from Jim's back porch among the near oppressive white. He was surprised at the lack of pain he felt, considering he had been hurting since - _

_"Dad!" Harry turned to the voice that had spoke. _

_Caleb was smiling softly from where he stood next to his son, and eagerly returned the crushing embrace the younger man enveloped him in. "It's all right, Harry."_

_"You're dead," Harry moaned with his eyes clenched shut. "You and Jim and-" He reared back an regarded his father in relief. "And me. If I'm here with you, then-"_

_Motioning for them to take a seat on the porch steps, Caleb shook his head. "You're not dead, Harry. And if I have anything to say about you won't be for a very long time."_

_Harry slumped heavily onto the stair next to his father. "But-"_

_"No," the man snapped."You're hurt, Son, badly, and turning your magic away from yourself to heal that girl-"_

_"She was innocent in all this!" He huffed._

_Caleb smiled and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know, Harry, and it was a good thing to do. Not necessarily the right thing, given your state, but a good thing. You're just lucky Bobby has been keeping a store of potions the last couple of years."_

_"So I'm not dead," Harry sighed._

_"No, you're not." His father squeezed his shoulder and he leaned in to the touch. "Harry, I'm gone. I just - I needed to see you one last time before I moved on. Death owed me - apparently it wasn't meant to be my time - and needed someone to play messenger. We figured you'd take it better from me than a Reaper."_

_With a frown, Harry asked "Take what?"_

_"Something's coming, Harry." Caleb said grimly. "Something big and something very, very bad. That Yellow Eyed son of a bitch has thrown off the balance. People are dying who shouldn't be and there are a hell of a lot more monsters and demons topside than ever. Death knows the endgame but isn't sharing the details."_

_"What does that have to do with me?"_

_His father sighed."You, the Winchesters, Bobby; you're all in the eye of the storm. What it all means, I have no idea but I do know that you - all of you - are all that stands between Yellow-Eyes and his goals. He has to be stopped, Harry."_

_"The Winchester's have that Colt," Harry reminded him, "the one the demon's are afraid of. They don't need me. I - I don't want to die, Dad, but I don't want to go back to a world without you either!"_

_Caleb reached over and grabbed onto the back of Harry's neck comfortingly, pulling father and son together until their foreheads were touching. "A child is meant to bury their parent. It's how it's suppose to be."_

_"They can stop him without me!"_

_"Maybe," Caleb agreed, pulling back to look his son in the eyes, "but it would be a lot harder and a lot more people could die."_

_Harry frowned and sighed. "Low blow, Dad."_

_"I know how you tick," The older man chuckled. "I can't stay much longer; you're body's responding to the potions and you'll be waking up shortly."_

_"It's too soon," Harry whispered, wiping angrily at the moisture in his eyes._

_"There's a reason for everything," Caleb said and tugged his son into a warm hug. "Why you were given Xezbeth's blood; why your powers keep growing; why it's time for you to go it without me now. I would have been a liability in this fight, Harry. I would have weakened you and given the evil sons of bitches a means of getting to you."_

_"You make me stronger!" Harry insisted, burying his face in the man's shoulder. "When I first met you I was helpless and pathetic and you changed that! You and Jim! And now you're both gone! How am I suppose to keep fighting when what I was fighting for isn't there anymore?"_

_"We'll always be there, Son," Caleb assured him. "Death isn't an ending; we, better than most, know that for a fact. For now, keep fighting. There's more to fight for than just me and Jim. You just have to find it."_

_"I don't want to," he said petulantly._

_Caleb laughed and pulled back from his son. He met Harry's gaze with one filled with a myriad of emotions but none more prevalent than the love from a father to his son. "We had a good run, Harry. I am proud of the man you've become; proud to call you my Son."_

_"Don't say good-bye!" Harry said frantically as he felt the world around him fading._

_"Never," Caleb leaned in and kissed his forehead, but the touch was fleeting as the white gave way to black."It's your turn to take care of Bobby."_

_"Dad! Don't go!"_

_"Stay safe, son."_

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**October 31, 2006 (6:30pm)**

Dean sat in the chair, staring unseeing at the book on his lap. He flipped through the pages absently before sighing and tossing it onto the floor beside him. He leaned back in his chair, pale green eyes going to the man in the bed who hadn't moved in nearly six hours.

When Harry had collapsed, blood flowing from his nose and ear, Dean had honestly thought his friend had killed himself healing Meg. With everything that had happened in the last two days it was not a feeling Dean wanted to ever feel again. He screwed up his friendship with Harry but maybe there was time to fix it.

"I never wanted to push you away," he heard himself speaking before he realized it. The unconscious hunter didn't respond, but maybe it was better this way. "After Sam left I know the only reason he called those first few months was because he was with you. I was able to take care of Dad better because I knew Sam was safe with you. You were as much a big brother to him as I ever have been.

"He talked to you so much more than he did to me. I know he told you about the Kitsune when we were younger, and I only know because you told him I'd be okay with it. And I honestly was. I should have been all kinds of jealous of you but how could I when you were there for me just as much as you were for him.

"When Sam stopped calling, you started. I know you made a point of calling me each week just to relay what you knew about him. You have no idea how sane you kept me doing that. Even when he stopped calling and talking to you, you kept calling. After Cassie... God, Harry, I don't think I could have handled it half as well as I did if you weren't there. I would have ended up in some dive, passed out drunk, or dead in a ditch somewhere.

"With every hunt we took on, ever conversation we had, you were taking his place. I know that's not exactly a good thing, but you were my little brother too Harry. I've been looking after the kid for so long that when he took off I didn't know what to do with myself. But then you let me take care of you.

"Do you remember the hunt in upstate New York; outside Tupper Lake? That water sprite wrecked you, Man, and I thought I'd have to tell Caleb how I got his son killed. I couldn't heal you like you did for me, and I didn't know squat about your Healing potions. I just thank god Bobby and Caleb were able to get to us in time. I think that was the moment I realized you weren't just my friend. You were family. Are family."

Dean rubbed his hand over his face and let his hands drop into his lap. "I felt guilty." He confessed reluctantly, staring at his palms. "Dad went missing and I didn't call Sam, I called you. I needed you to reassure me that he was okay; that even if he wasn't that you'd be there helping me. That's why I went to California. That's why I got Sam to help me with the hunt in Jericho. Sam is John's son; he had to be the one looking for the son of a bitch. But you...

"Goddamn it, Harry, I never meant to cut you out. I just felt so goddamn guilty every time I started to call you, even with Sam right there. Eventually, I just... stopped. No explanation, not excuses, and I know that was probably the shittiest thing I could have ever done. I ran away. Plain and simple. I was a coward."

"You're not a coward."

Dean's head snapped up and he saw his brother standing in the doorway; he hadn't even realized Sam was there. "Uh, hey... how's Meg?"

"Dealing," Sam replied and stepped further in to the room. "Don't change the subject. You are not, nor have you ever been, a coward."

Shifting in his chair uncomfortably, Dean rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Sam-"

"I get it, Dean." the younger man snapped, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "I bailed on you and Dad. Harry was there for you. Hell, he was there for me too in the beginning and would still have been if I had let him. He's pissed at us, and that's on me."

"This is not your fault, Sammy." Dean growled with a shake of his head. "I cut him out just like you did."

"No, you did it because of me." Sam looked over at the figure on the bed and sighed. "I can't change what happened, it's too late for that. But I can damn well try to make up for it. I was talking to Meg, trying to see if she could remember where they've taken Dad. She doesn't remember everything, but she's got bits and pieces of the last year. She does, however, remember quite clearly how excited the demons were to get their hands on Harry. Especially that yellow-eyed bastard. Whatever happens with Dad and the Colt, they're going to coming for him."

"They'll have to get through us first," the older man spat viciously. "Bad enough they got Dad, they're not getting Harry! Not again!"

"The Winchesters have gone Chick Flick... I've died and this is hell."

Both men startled at the sudden gravelly voice and Dean was leaping from the chair. "Harry?" The dark haired hunter was shifting on the bed, lifting himself up onto his elbow and squinting against the harsh overhead light. Dean was right beside him, helping the other man into a steadier position. "Get Bobby, Sam."

The taller man practically bolted from the room.

"I'm all right, Dean," Harry insisted even as Dean propped up the pillows behind Harry's back to support him. "How's Meg?"

Shaking his head in amazement, Dean settled on the foot of the bed. "Leave it to you to be worried about some chick when you nearly died on us. Again."

"She's not just some chick," Harry corrected. "She's a chick with information. And I didn't nearly die."

"Dude, your brain was virtually leaking out of your ear! You stopped breathing, twice! Yeah, you nearly died!" Dean paused in his rant and frowned. "And what information? Meg barely remembers her time possessed."

"Maybe, but the demon that was riding inside her shared her mind and body for over a year. It's in there, we just have to help her find it."

"Find what?" A timid voice said from the doorway. The small spare room was suddenly crowded as Sam and Bobby entered, Bobby moving to the bedside to check on the young man, and Meg stayed where she stood against the frame.

"A location," Harry clarified while Bobby checked his vitals, which Harry took much calmer and better than Dean would have. "A name, anything that might give us a lead on where to find old Yellow-Eyes."

The petite blonde sucked her lower lips between her teeth. "A name. What could you do with a name?"

Everyone stopped and looked at her. "A demon's name? It's true name?" Bobby queried gruffly.

She nodded. "I don't know which one, exactly, but there's a name I remember that was definitely not for one of the human hosts."

"You give us the name we can summon the thing." Harry told her, pushing off the blankets covering him despite the glare Bobby levelled him. "We get it here, trap it, interrogate it, then go hunting Yellow Eyes and find John."

"You sure you're up for it?" Sam asked, obviously having see how pale their friend was when Harry swung his feet onto the floor.

"I feel like shit," Harry admitted, leveling an annoyed stare Sam's way. "But if Bobby has a couple of energy restoratives and Pepper-Up potions, then I'll be more than capable of a summoning ritual."

"You already pushed yourself once today, Harry," Dean stood from the bed when Harry did, cupping the other man's elbow when he wavered. "And you weren't exactly in top form then either."

Dean could see Harry was getting frustrated with the coddling and let go of the arm when green eyes turned and glared at him. "Do you not what to find your father? Because the way you two are trying to talk me out of it really makes me wonder! Now unless you're wanting to figure it out first hand, let me just tell you this: having your Dad die while you do nothing to stop it really suck's ass!"

And really, there was nothing else to say after that. Dean just turned away from the penetrating stare and looked over at Meg. "What's the name?"

"Azazel."

oOOooOOooOOooOOo

Less than an hour later, three hunters and a girl stood outside the panic room in Bobby' s basement. Dean had been impressed with the set up - iron frame coated in salt, devil trap's in the ceiling, covering the entire floor, and outside the door - and it had only taken the men a few minutes to clear the room of everything. Now they stood there, the Colt ready in Dean's hand if need be, watching through the open door as Harry finished purifying the room with a smudge stick made of sage and acacia.

"I don't like this," Dean murmured to the others. "He's going to be inside that room, along, with that thing."

"The books say Azazel's not your run of the mill demon either," Sam responded just as quietly. "It's a Grigori, and whatever it's doing here on Earth can't be good."

"They feared him," Meg commented. "The other demons; I remember that. The one that possessed me revered him, even called him Father, but was terrified of him."

Harry spared them a quick glance before kneeling with his back against the far wall. He was on a clear spot between two points of the larger star of the devil's trap on the floor, the largest spot in the room where the demon's sigil wouldn't interfere with the trap's power. With a thick piece of chalk he began sketching the sigil they had found on the floor in front of him.

"What if it's that yellow-eyed bastard himself?" Dean wondered, his stomach clenched with worry. "The demons want Harry as much as they want the Colt. This just feels like we're handing him over to them on a silver platter."

"Once inside the trap it's powers will be bound." Bobby's tone belied his attempt at reassuring them; he was just as worried as they were. "It won't be able to hurt Harry."

"Maybe not with its mojo," Dean snarled, fingers curling and uncurling around the handle of the gun agitatedly. "But Harry's still not up to snuff; that thing - whatever he's summoning - could do a lot of damage before I got a shot off."

No one said anything after than as all of them saw Harry lift his hand above a small ceramic bowl and slice his palm with the tip of his wand. He was incanting in Latin, his words low and hard to hear, and his blood was dripping into the powder and oil mixture in the bowl. Six large, black pillar candles were lit in the circle of the sigil and Harry's knees were touching the symbol's point closest to him. Thirteen crimson drops fell before he pulled his hand away and lit a match.

With one last glance at his audience, Harry dropped the small bit of fire into the bowl. The flash it caused was bright but quick, the flames fading only seconds later. When the last flickered out, however, Harry was no longer alone in the panic room.

Dressed in faded jeans, a dark button down shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket, the man standing between the wizard and the hunters was an all too familiar figure. With an amused grin twisting the lips, John Winchester's glowing yellow eyes flicked to the four gathered outside. "I hope you'll excuse us but this is a private conversation."

"No!" Dean bellowed when the door suddenly slammed shut of its own accord, leaping forward and grabbing hold of the handle. He pushed on it but it was held in place by an unseen force. Even when Sam was suddenly beside him, slamming his body against it, it didn't give. "HARRY!"

Inside the room, the green-eyed hunter hadn't bothered moving. As soon as he felt the ritual complete he knew something had gone wrong. He could feel the demon's power surging around him, caressing and flowing over his body. He wasn't surprised when the door had shut, locking him inside with the demon possessed John.

"Right idea, poor execution," Azazel chortled with John's voice over the pounding on the door. He was gesturing to the various demon traps. "Holy water, the traps, exorcisms; things like that don't work on a thing like me. Though you got the iron right. I can't actually cross over the stuff, which is quite annoying I tell you. "

He stopped looking around and focused on Harry. "Now, you conjuring me? I honestly didn't see that one coming. I expected Tweedle Dee and Dumb out there to come to the rescue of their old man with guns blazing."

"They still might," Harry commented, seeing Dean's furious face through the window in the door. "You going to kill me, Azazel?"

"If I have to," the demon admitted, moving to stand directly in front of the still kneeling man. "I'm rather hoping you'll be more open to a partnership, if you will."

Harry looked up at the man, meeting gold flecked eyes as they faded into John's normal brown. "A partnership?"

John smiled widely, the look totally foreign on his face. "You are very powerful, Harry. More so than many of the demons I find myself forced to work with. Such inferior creatures to someone like you. I need a job done; one I was hoping little Sammy Winchester would have done for me." Outside the room, the pounding stopped as that statement caught everyone's attention. "But you, Harry, are so much more ideal - I don't even have to put in the time and effort of training you! You already know what your powers can do! Not like Sam. No, Sam would take at least another year before he grew in to his powers."

"What powers?" Harry scowled, wondering what the thing was talking about.

Azazel chuckled his amusement. "So many secrets you boys have! Sam is special, Harry. Not quite like you, of course, but he had talent. Natural born gifts that were amplified by the blood of a demon. Yours with Xezbeth; Sam with mine."

Harry looked past John's shoulder and met the horrified eyes of Dean through the glass. It had been a decade since the young wizard had learned the truth; ten years that he had kept it secret from everyone he called family, save for Caleb. And now it seemed as if Sam had demon blood in him just like Harry.

He swallowed and forced attention back to the demon. "What's the job?"

"A simple thing," John's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, "Wouldn't take more than a few minutes of your time, actually. We can discuss the exact details when we've a little more privacy. There's just one little question you need to ask me, Harry."

The thing looked down on Harry expectantly and the kneeling man didn't disappoint. " What's in it for me?"

"Harry, don't!" Dean shouted through the door, resuming his efforts to break the door open.

Crouching down to meet Harry's gaze directly, Azazel all but purred his answer. "I can bring him back."

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dropped over his head. Harry's eyes closed of their own accord and his mind reeled . John's heavy hand fell to the top of his head and stroked his hair in a parody of comfort. "Your father, Caleb; I can bring him back to you. Whole and healthy and alive. I wouldn't even want your soul, despite how fun it might be to get you down into the pit."

When there was no immediate response from the stunned wizard, the demon pushed. "Think about it, Harry. No deadline, no impending visit by my hell hounds. Just you and your Dad for the rest of your natural lives. I'll even throw in the clause that neither myself nor my followers would raise a finger against either of you for as long as you both live. All you have to do is agree to do this one, little job at a date of my choosing."

The words were like a balm, soothing the ache in his heart he had felt since the moment Caleb had died. He didn't have to live in a world where he was alone...

"Xezbeth did me a favor, really." Azazel went on. "Boosting your magic the way he did has given me a ready-made General worthy to stand at my side."

Harry's eyes snapped open and he fixed a venomous glare on the demon host before him. "You mean like this?"

John's body was suddenly flung across the room and pinned to the wall several feet above the floor. The demon's eyes flashed yellow and Harry could feel it's magic bucking against his own as he smoothly got to his feet.

"You called me a General," Harry snarled, tightening his hold on his wand and using his rage to press his magic harder against the struggling demon. "Which means a War. Except I won't go to war for you, Azazel. But I sure as hell will go to war against you!"

With an inhuman roar, Azazel broke free of Harry's power and retaliated with a blast of his own. It bashed into the wizard and slammed him hard against the wall. He fell to the floor, the breath knock out of his lungs, but managed to keep his hold on his wand. He was getting to his hands and knees when the demon was suddenly in front of him again and grabbing him by the throat.

Lifting Harry off his feet, hammering him against the wall, the yellow-eyes of the demon bore into him. "What a pain in the ass you've been!" He sneered, tightening his grip on the airway and preventing the wizard from regaining his breath. "Really! Since you came into the picture you've made it that much harder to get at these jackasses! You protected them from the Daevas, you've protected them from my children, you keep getting in the way! Mary got in my way, so did dear Jess! I should just kill you now, but you're just so damn useful!"

Azazel stepped even closer until John's body was keeping Harry pinned to the wall as much as the hand around his throat. Harry fought against the grip, digging his finger into pressure points and clawing his fingernails into the skin. His magic railed against the demon's, fighting and scrambling to get the oppressive power as it worked to seal his core much like the demon possessing Meg had done.

Azazel ignored it all.

"Since you won't make a deal," the demon spat, "why don't I just ride you instead."

Harry's eyes widened in terror as the yellow glow to John's eyes began to swirl and his head tilted closer to Harry's. John's lips parted and Harry could see the black cloud gathering at the back of the man's throat. The opened mouth settled over his own lips and Harry's magic pushed a barrier in the way of the demonic entity that threatened to invade his body. It was enough for the moment, but he was weakening and wouldn't last long.

"Get the fuck off him!" Dean's voice was loud and clear.

As he had prepared to switch hosts, Azazel's power had fluctuated and the force keeping the door from opening faltered. Dean wasted no time bursting into the room and aiming the gun at the thing possessing his father.

John's head lifted away from Harry's and the yellow returned strongly in the older man's eyes. Without moving or letting go of the barely conscious Wizard, the turned his head toward the doors. Dean stood there with the Colt pointed and steady while Sam and Bobby had spread out behind him.

Azazel smiled. "Isn't this the nice family reunion. Your Dad? He's in here with me; trapped in his own meat suit. He says 'hi' by the way." He focussed on Harry again and squeezed the hand circling the other man's throat. Harry's body stopped fighting and his eyes fluttered shut. "He's going to do what he's wanted to all these years. He's going to kill the witch-boy!"

"Let them go, or I swear to God-"

"What?" Azazel roared, snapping his head back around to glare at them. "What are you and God going to do? You kill me, you kill Daddy!"

"I know." Dean didn't hesitate as he pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore into the meat of John's leg and the possessed man fell to the ground, taking Harry with him. A ragged gasp tore through the room as the hand fell away from Harry's throat and Bobby wasted no time in rushing forward and pulling the young hunter away from the Demon.

"Bobby?" Dean demanded, keeping the gun aimed at his downed father. Flecks of magic flickered around the bleeding wound.

Bobby's hands ran over the gasping man, gently fingering the bruises already forming around the windpipe. There didn't seem to be any fractures and no other injuries were visible. "He's good."

"Dean!" John's head lifted and his face was terse, strained, but the brown eyes were filled with a familiar intensity. " It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!"

"Dean, don't do it!" Sam was suddenly behind his brother, pleading with the older man. "Don't you do it!"

Dean's hold on the gun never wavered as he adjusted the aim of the Colt.

"You've got to hurry," John grunted as he fought for control of his own body. " I can't hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Dean!"

"Dean, no!"

John suddenly clenched his teeth and his head slammed back into the floor. Then he started chuckling. When he looked at the brothers again, his eyes were a sickly yellow once more. Ignoring the wound in the leg, Azazel easily climbed to his feet with a victorious smile on his lips. "Face it, boys, as long as I'm inside dear old Daddy, you won't kill me."

"But I will! _**Avraka Davra**_!"

Despite almost being strangled to death, Harry's voice was strong and commanding as he snapped out the spell. Before either Winchester could turn their attention to him, a sharp green light leapt from the tip of his wand and raced the short distance toward John's prone body, striking dead center on the man's chest.

The light flared across the entirety of the body as it flowed through John. When it immerged from the other side there was a black mass swirling within it. John crumpled to the ground unmoving. Exploding into a web of bright green tendrils, that plunged into and coiled around the foreign entity, the black cloud churned and screamed. The web pulsed several times, constricting and growing smaller each time, until it vanished in a burst of green light.

The concrete beneath the sigil of Azazel cracked and the white chalk turned black. A moment later it vanished all together.

No one moved.

Panting for breath, Harry let his arm and wand drop to his lap and slumped into Bobby where he sat cradled against the man's chest. Sam was suddenly pushing past Dean, who still hadn't lowered the Colt, and crouching next to his father. At the younger man's touch, John stirred and lifted himself into a sitting position with his son's help.

"Dad?" Dean asked hesitantly.

John looked at him with a warm smile. "Yeah, Dean. It's only me in here."

Finally lowering the Colt, Dean bolted forward and fell to his knees next to his father. Arms wrapped around both sons as John drew his children to him. Over Dean's shoulder he caught Harry's eyes. They didn't say anything, but Harry could see the gratitude in the man's expression.

It was over.


	11. Pa Nan Fen (Not the End)

**Author's Note: ** Last Chapter for this story. However, there will be a sequel. I haven't started writing it, or really plotting it out, but the idea is there and nibbling so I'll definitely be penning it out. I will post a little update when it's being posted.

Thank you so very much to everyone who's been reading and following this story. It means a great deal to me that people enjoy my stuff. I write it mostly for myself, but it's still nice to know others appreciate it as well. Thanks for the faves, the follows and the reviews!

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Supernatural, and the characters thereof do not belong to me. I make no profit and this story was written for enjoyment value only.

* * *

**EPILOGUE: Pa Nan Fen (Not the End)**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**November 04, 2006 (6:30am)**

When the first rays of the sun touched the horizon the first flame touched the kindling. By the time the sky had lightened enough to see by, the pyre was an inferno and burning the wrapped body lying on top. The flames flickered and danced, reflected in the eyes of the man standing in the furthest spot of Singer's Salvage Yard.

John approached slowly, the crutches he'd be using while his leg healed digging into the dirt and gravel, as he watched his friend's son give Caleb a hunter's funeral. Harry stood facing the pyre, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket against the early November morning air. The younger man didn't acknowledge him as he drew closer or when he stopped a few feet to Harry's side.

"You didn't have to do this alone," John said quietly after a few minutes.

"Yeah," Harry responded with a voice empty of emotion, "I did."

"It's not safe," he tried. "There are demons still out there. Hell, what if I'd still been possessed?"

"For one," the other man said without looking at John, "it's been three days and you've had ample opportunity to try something. And two-" His hand suddenly snapped out and wand was pressing into John's cheek. Harry still wasn't looking at him. "-you passed all the test, including this one. Last time Azazel touched the wand it burned him." The arm lowered and the wand disappeared back into the man's pocket. "You kill me now... well, wouldn't be the first time you've tried."

The silence descended on the pair and John found he didn't like it. There was something inherently wrong with Harry Reaves being so hollow and cold; so like John himself. "I saw you packed up Caleb's truck."

The truck, and Caleb's body, had been retrieved from the Blue Earth authorities the day before. Bobby had accompanied Harry to collect them both, as Harry was needed to stop the search for him and give a statement to the FBI. John didn't know what was said, but he did know it required a call to Ash at the Roadhouse to get things squared away. Harry had been even colder to Bobby's other house guests since they returned. No one else, save for maybe Bobby, knew Harry was even out here burning Caleb's body.

"I'm leaving so it's a good idea to take my gear."

"What about your jeep?" The other vehicle had been parked in Bobby's drive since before everything happened; since before Caleb and Harry had gone on the Redcap hunt.

"Don't need it," was the gruff reply. "Sold it to Bobby."

"So what," John wondered out loud, "you were just going to take off without telling anyone?"

"Bobby knows."

John figured that; there's no way Harry would have left without telling the other man. Still, it was distressing just how upsetting John found the idea that Harry wouldn't have said good-bye to his boys at least. "Look, Harry-"

"What do you want, John?" Harry sighed and finally turned to regard the injured man. "This is the most you have ever said to me since I met you - discounting the conversation I had with Azazel while he was in your body. What does it matter, to you, what I'm doing or where I'm going?"

With a frown, John nodded. "You're right. You and I, we've had our differences-"

"Should we count how many times you've wanted - and tried - to kill me?" Harry snorted and looked away, his eyes falling back on his father's funeral pyre.

This was harder than he anticipated, but John Winchester was nothing if not determined. "We've had our differences, and I'm sorry it had to come to this for me to realize just how wrong I was. I'm sorry, Harry. You have always been good to my boys, Dean especially after Sam left, and now you've done the one thing I've dedicated most of my life to."

"So this is your 'Thanks for ganking that demonic son of a bitch!' speech?" Harry shook his head. "It wasn't necessary. Go back to your sons, John."

"Goddamn it, kid!" John finally lost his temper and grabbed Harry's arm, spinning the younger man to face him. "You don't have to do this alone! I've been where you are! Right now, this moment - god kid, don't let it destroy everything you have like it did me!"

"Fuck you!" Harry snapped, shoving the man hard against the chest and sending John tumbling back onto his ass in the dirt. "You think you know what this is? You don't! Demons lie, but they also tell the truth! Your wife died and you _**couldn't**_ let it go. My father died and I _**won't**_ let it go; because my father died because of _**your**_ fucking one-man war against the goddamn King of hell!"

Never, in the years he had known the young man, had John ever seen the fury that burned in Harry's green eyes. Seeing him now, John understood why Azazel and the other demons would fear and covet him at the same time. In his eyes John saw his end.

Undaunted, John just sat up in the dirt and stared up at the grieving hunter. "King of hell?"

"You've been hunting this thing for more than twenty-years and you know nothing about it?" Harry stared at him incredulously. "Azazel wasn't just a demon, John; he was the son of Lucifer. What Christ was to God, Azazel was to the Devil. Azazel was an angel, just like Lucifer. Only, while Lucifer was locked in the deepest bowels of the pit, Azazel renounced his place in heaven and ruled Hell in his father's name. Untold millennia later and we have the King of Hell. Look it up; it's all in Bobby's books."

Turning his back on John, Harry turned back to the fire. "And because of you, Azazel had my father killed. That's on you, John, and I'll never forgive you for it."

When Harry walked away, heading back into the salvage yard and back toward the house, John didn't try to stop him.

oOOooOOooOOooOOooOOo

Bobby was waiting for him when he got back to his father's truck - Harry's truck, now. The older man was leaning against the front of the vehicle nursing a large cup of coffee. Sitting on the hood was a second cup and Harry couldn't stop the pale grin that tugged at his lips. Without a word, he sidled up beside Bobby, leaned against the truck, and took the still warm mug between his hands. He sipped at the strong beverage and looked out to the rising sun, watching the plume of smoke rising into the sky.

"He always loved watching the sunrise from that spot," he remarked quietly. "Said it was the only place on the property that he didn't feel like he was about to get crushed by a pile of broken cars. Or books."

Bobby snorted into his cup and glared at the younger man when Harry chuckled. "Your old man just never shared our love of the written word. But I'll give him the one about the cars. It's a death trap in there, I tell you."

Harry's smile lasted a moment longer as the pair sat in companionable quiet. "Thanks, Bobby. For this, I mean."

"Your Daddy was a good man, Harry, and a damn fine Hunter. He deserved a proper send off. I just wish you'd have let me helped, but I get why you wanted to do it on your own." Bobby took another drink of his coffee before setting the mug aside and Harry braced himself. "Did Johnny find you?"

Wearing a scowl, Harry took another drink. "Yup."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yup."

"But I bet you wish he wasn't."

"For Dean and Sam's sakes I'm glad he is." Harry admitted and finished the cup off before handing it to the other man. "Take care of yourself, Old Man."

Bobby reluctantly took the cup and looked back at the house as Harry opened the driver's side door. "What about them boys? And Meg?" He asked, watching Harry climb into the cab. "After everything you all have been through, you're just taking off on them?"

"You'll take care of Meg," Harry assured him. "She doesn't want to go back home yet and she needs help dealing with what happened; you can do that for her."

"And Dean and Sam?"

Harry slammed the door shut and turned the ignition, the engine roaring loudly in the quiet of the morning. He rolled down the window and frowned when he saw John hobbling out of the salvage yard on his crutches "They've got John; they don't need me anymore. They haven't in a long time."

"Like hell they don't," Bobby insisted and leaned in through the window, grabbing hold of Harry's arm. "Damn it, boy, you don't have to leave! Take time; grieve! But don't do it alone."

Harry shook his head and frowned when he saw a curtain upstairs being drawn aside and a tall figure standing in the window. "They're still out there, Bobby; Azazel's children. The one who possessed Meg, and at least one other. Called himself Tom. I need to find them."

"No, what you need is to take a step back and recoup!" Bobby all but pleaded. "You fake it well, but even with your potions and healing, you're still hurting! And to leave now... Word gets around the monster world, Harry. They're going to know you offed their Daddy and they're going to be coming for you."

"I'm counting on it." Prying the man's hand off his arm, Harry put the truck in reverse just as Dean stepped out of the front door. "Stay safe, Bobby."

Backing up slowly, to give Bobby time to step away, Harry gunned it a moment later when he was clear. Gravel spun out beneath the tires as the truck leapt into gear and Harry sped away from last place he could call home.

Home.

It was overrated anyway.

Harry didn't look back.

**Minneapolis, Minnesota**

**November 04, 2006 (9:45am)**

"I just got the fax with the information you wanted from Washington, Victor."

FBI Agent Henriksen looked away from the computer screen as his partner, Calvin Reidy, entered the office they had commandeered in the Minneapolis FBI Field office. He reached out for the manila folder which was dutifully placed in his palm. He started flipping through it while the other man closed the door and took a seat opposite the desk from him.

"Why are you interested in a case that was closed almost a decade ago? You weren't even an agent then."

"The Murphy and Reaves murders in Blue Earth," he explained as he scanned through the papers. "Reaves' son was missing for two days, presumed kidnapped by the killers, then shows up at a friend's place with barely a scratch on him."

"You think he killed his old man?" Calvin asked with a wrinkled brow.

Victor shook his head. "No, I talked to Harry Potter-Reaves myself yesterday. He's given us a lead on the actual culprits and I wanted to corroborate his story. Said that back in '97, when he was seventeen, he was kidnapped by the cult his parents were a part of over in England until they were murdered when he was a baby. At seventeen he was taken back to the UK where they were planning on using him in some sort of satanic ritual. The FBI and CIA, working with SOCA, the Bureau's equivalent over there, were able to rescue him and the high ranking members of the cult were caught."

Reidy was frowning. "Why so much effort for one kid? I mean, yeah, it sucks ass and all but the government doesn't typically go all out like that for one kid."

"It was political," Victor explained, handing a picture of a younger Harry Potter-Reaves to his partner. "That kid is Entitled: Lord Black-Potter; doesn't mean as much these days but back then it was a dangerous situation for our side of things. He was brought to the US by his father - who didn't even know the kid existed until a week or so beforehand - after he was nearly killed at his elite boarding school in Scotland. It was the sixth time in five years; he'd also been kidnapped, along with another student who wasn't lucky enough to survive, the previous year. He was granted political asylum with the guarantee he'd be protect."

Calvin handed the photograph back. "But he wasn't; he was kidnapped on American soil and taken back overseas."

"Exactly." Victor tucked the photo back into the folder. "So that's why it was such a big deal. Luckily, the kid survived again, with only a few scars on his wrists to show for his ordeal, and the bad guys were arrested. But, apparently, not all of them.

"So, here we are almost ten years later, and they came after him again. But because he knew they were still out there, he'd joined his father who works as a Private Investigator and they'd been literally travelling the country ever since. They never stayed in one place too long. To get at Potter-Reaves these cultists murdered the priest, who was a family friend, and lured both Reaves men back to Blue Earth. He watched them murder his father and then they knocked him out. When he came to, he was tied up in some warehouse in Lincoln and able to escape. He admits to stealing a car, which we can overlook given the circumstances, and high tailing it to a friend of his father's in Sioux Falls who then brought him to us."

"Okay," Calvin said, "I'm with you so far. But the case file is right there in your hand; he was telling you the truth."

"I know," Henriksen acknowledge, "and I believed him yesterday too, despite it sounding like the plot of some bad horror flick. But I had a team from the Lincoln Office try to find the warehouse. They found it, along with a half dozen bodies that looked like they had been doused in some sort of corrosive liquid - despite there being nothing but water found in the place. They also found a truck a few block away; a truck with some very interesting things - occult type of things - in the back as well as the victim's blood and fingerprints in it."

"You think it was the truck they used to transport him?" Agent Reidy asked eagerly. "Registration?"

"Elroy McGillicutty. A fake registration, considering Mr. McGillicutty is a nonagenarian in Waco, Texas, who had his license revoked almost fifty years ago when he lost his sight in a factory explosion. But there were more prints."

Victor turned the monitor of his computer so his partner could see it as well and clicked open the police file he had been reading. "John Eric Winchester, former marine and wanted for questioning in several suspicious deaths. Also," he clicked on another tab and brought up a second file, "his sons: youngest, Samuel Henry Winchester - no real record, just misdemeanors - and eldest, Dean Michael Winchester - wanted for an arms length of minor offenses but killed by St. Louis police after a failed home invasion where he assaulted the lone female occupant. She wasn't his only victim; they attributed at least one other death to Dean."

Reidy was frowning. "If he's dead, why are his prints on a suspect vehicle?"

"Precisely," Victor turned the monitor back and pointed to the closed case file in front of him. "I think, somehow, and for some reason known only to them, John faked his son's death in St. Louis. I also think that the Winchesters are part of this cult that went after Potter-Reaves, and I think they'll do it again."

**St. Mungo's, England**

**November 12, 2006 (2:30pm)**

"Oh, it's so nice that he's getting visitors again!" the aged nurse prattled on as she led him through the hospital ward. "Other than his mother, no one's been by to see him in so many years! She only comes by every other week, now; not that I blame her. Heard she's got grandbaby number twenty-three on the way! I swear, those children of hers reproduce as much as she did - but you didn't hear that from me.

"No, it's so much better that she's spending time with her family, these days. The stroke he suffered a couple years ago have left him completely unresponsive. Why, he's even worse than the Longbottoms, and that's saying something! Really, it would be so much kinder, for him and his family, just to put the poor dear out of his misery -but you didn't hear that from me!"

He smiled indulgently. "No, of course not."

"Well, here's his room. I have to make my round so I'll leave you to visit."

"Thank you." He watched the matron hurry on her way before entering the silent room.

Tom's objective was lying on the bed, the glow of magic surrounding him and keeping him alive. His eyes were closed, his chest rising only because of the magic telling his body to breath, his freckled skin pale, his chin covered with an auburn colored five-o'clock shadow, the same colored hair disheveled and uncared for. Really, the young man was in deplorable condition.

Which was perfect for him.

Mouth opening wide, the inky black cloud flowed out of the corpse it was inhabiting. Tom paid no attention to the thud the body made when it hit the floor, focused only on pushing through the magic that protected the young man. The power was irritating but he would not be deterred. After only a brief struggle, he bypassed the magic and flowed into the young man's body through his nostrils.

There was no fight in him, not after the soul had all but fled after so many years trapped within its own body. The body, while weak right now, would be strong again but it was the magic thrumming through every inch of the man that had enticed Tom.

Azazel had been right: riding a lesser wizard was finally possible. And this one suited his goals perfectly.

For this first time in years, Ronald Billius Weasley opened his eyes.


End file.
